


All is Not Lost

by SteamChesh



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Anger, Angst, Blight, Cure, Grey Warden - Freeform, Love, Lucerni, Multi, Pain, Taint - Freeform, Tevinter, Venatori, voices
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2018-06-02 13:54:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 88,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6568894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteamChesh/pseuds/SteamChesh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warden-Commander Elanda Cousland has searched for the to cure the taint in her blood- and the blood of her fellow Wardens. She won't rest until she has the cure in her hands. Her search leads her across Thedas; but it's only when she enters Tevinter for her second time that things begin to get interesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the Absence of Light, Shadows Thrive

They'd been at it for days.

She had gotten kidnapped by the Venatori and they decided that waiting for her to talk wasn’t going to work, so torture was the way to her voice.

Yesterday it had been stabbing, the day before that they had tried breaking her bones, but today it was water.

Elanda was brought before two large buckets of water; one hovering over a fire enchantment, and the other over an enchantment of ice. The man behind her kicked the back of her knees, making her land hard on her front knees, a short groan of pain as she violently landed on her knee caps. 

The Venatori took the entirety of her armor set from her, leaving her with her plain, dirty, torn, and bloodstained tunic and short trousers. She tried to remember times where it had been worse; she couldn't. Even when she had left her parents to die at Castle Highever, she had a sword, shield, armor, and her Mabari. Even in the Deep Roads where she couldn’t see the sun, or feel the warmth on her skin, she had Alistair and her faithful companions. 

Here? In a land full of magisters, slavers, maleficarum, and tyranny, she had nothing but the clothes on her back and a will forged from Silverite. She prayed silently to the Maker that it would be enough to see her through. 

Her silent demeanor was enough to warrant her head dunked into a bucket and held there.

The masked torturer gripped her tightly by the hair and pulled her head out of the freezing water only to put her into scalding water and then back into freezing water before being pulled up once more.

"Who are you?"

Again. 

"Blasted whore, who are you?"

If they only knew. The cult had gotten nothing out of her but incessant laughter and taunting; both of which made them try different tactics every day.

And so he tried again. 

Hissing through gritted teeth, Elanda mentally chastised herself for getting in this situation in the first place.

But of course it was just her luck to get into situations like these.

When they asked her questions she gave nearly the same response as the other times they tried, only spicing it up to smirk and laugh. They stripped her of her entirety and left her with nothing; but the ‘pain’ they were trying to deal out was nothing compared to the heat of Archdemon fire. 

_ "That's right, Warden. Laugh off the pain." Zevran confirmed, "They don't know what to do with laughter." _

Hearing Zevran in her head only made her laugh harder, she had officially gone insane, surely.

_ "It has had enough of this, yes?" Shale asked, "Shall it squish the others beneath its boot? Surely that is its plan?" _

The voice of Shale wasn't wrong. If Elanda could just get her hands out of these binds, she could fight her way out of this... Place.

_"My word, do you even know where you are?"_ Wynne chastised, and Elanda fell limp in her captor's arms as she was dragged off and thrown in a cell, given up their interrogations for the moment.

The cell reminded her of Fort Drakon. Except now there was no person in the cell next to her, and she wanted company now more than ever. Especially to help her escape. It had been so easy for her last time... Just jump the guard and put on his uniform... Now? Now what could she do?

_ "We'll come for you, my dear. Don't you worry." _

Worry? Worrying wasn’t on her mind, but she knew she couldn't depend on others to save her. She wasn’t in Fort Drakon where her friends would start to mount a daring rescue. She was in Maker-forsaken Tevinter.

Elanda would get herself out of this. She wasn't some damsel in distress.

_ "Then what do you call this situation, hm?" Morrigan crossed her arms, "You are stuck in a cell and no one knows you are here- well, other than your captors of course." _

_ "Morrigan," Alistair growled, "Could you kindly crawl into a hole and die? That would be great, thanks." _

_ "I'm only stating that-" _

_ "Help or don't." Alistair growled, "You don't get another choice." _

Elanda pulled herself back to the wall and tightly shut her eyes, one of her arms weakly resting on her stomach and the other lying pathetically on the ground as she attempted to will the voices away. She needed silence to think. Her imaginary companions weren't going to help.

Not as far into Tevinter as she was- or thought she was. She sat for a long while, or what felt like a long while, she couldn't tell, gaining her strength back. Once she was able to stand, she was able to get a better view of where she was held. It was some kind of torturers chamber, she could see the various corpses of people who'd been left here. She frowned in disgust and vowed that her body would not add to the numbers.

How many times had she seen Leliana pick a lock? Surely it wasn't that difficult... She knelt down closer to the ground her knees protesting from the mistreatment earlier as she looked around for something to function as a impromptu lock-pick. 

_ "Not difficult for some." The bard confirmed in her head, "But I also had proper tools. You're barely left with your clothes." _

She didn't need to be reminded, but she needed to find a way out before-

_"Get down."_ Zevran hushed at the sound of noise and Elanda followed the instruction, pretending to be asleep, _"Not what I had in mind..."_

She could hear the harsh bark of laughter from the end of the hall, "So that's when I took the little slave girl and watched as a demon took form in her body, more than willing to do my bidding."

_ "How do men like him live with themselves?" Alistair sounded outraged, "You'll put them right." _

_ Zevran scoffed, "Right into the ground." _

_ "And tell me how that's a bad thing?" _

_ "Sh, or you'll miss out on the good part." Zevran hushed Alistair, even though he quite agreed with him. _

Elanda did too. Elanda and Alistair didn't have servants at the Denerim palace. They had people who worked. The Queen and King of Ferelden saw their people payed and treated fairly. Respect was given, no matter where they came from. Some at first saw it as a condescending nature, but grew out of resentment.

Elanda and Alistair were fair rulers and under their joined hands, Ferelden prospered.

But Elanda couldn't think of such things now. Not when she heard the iron key slide into the lock, the torturer swinging the door open with a heavy creak.

"Grab her. And put her in my personal chambers." A man sneered, "I'm sure I can find some ways to break her, even Wardens have their breaking point."

_ "How disgusting." Morrigan groaned, "Don't indulge such base behavior." _

_ "Makers breath, you can't let them-" _

_ "3." Zevran started the mental countdown. _

2

1

With a fury that made Elanda's mental Oghren shout with pride, the Warden connected her fists with one of her captors jaw, breaking one of her fingers in the process. But it felt good- the pain from attack felt good, almost like old times. She quickly drew the sword from his belt and sliced upwards, the blood coating the sword and deepened the red on her tunic. Surely her armor was somewhere, but she didn't have the time to retrieve it now.

She wished she had the two daggers in her boots but she'd been stripped of her everything. But Elanda Theirin-Cousland wouldn't go down without a fight.

The torturer was the next person on her list. He was dangerous, being a maleficar. She'd seen blood magic before. And she would not see it again; not if she could help it.

She kicked the warrior down with a powerful kick to the stomach, clearly knocking the wind out of him, taking him out of the fight, for now.

But it allowed her to turn her grey gaze to the Mage.

"A Warden with a bite?" He chuckled, "How adorable." She could feel the fire being summoned from his finger tips, "I was going to try to do this in a civilized manner.... No matter."

But Elanda didn't wait. He was focused on talking and summoning a fire spell instead of blasting her backwards with Mind Blast that she easily had a moment to introduce his face to the pommel of her sword. Then again, and then swung diagonally down through his collarbone- digging the sword as far as it would go before having to kick the bastard off her sword, and quickly beheading the man who was breathless and horrified.

_ "Stay angry, Warden." Oghren grumbled, "They aren't going to make it easy for ya." _

"Then I'll make it easy for them." Elanda murmured, mostly to herself as she gripped the sword with the hand with the unbroken fingers. She would go to them instead of waiting for them to come.

_ Oghren laughed heartily, "That's what I like to hear Warden!" _

_ "Is it not foolish?" Sten chastised, only to be drowned out by Oghren's scoff. _

_ "Pay him no mind, Warden. Let's kill some Tevinter scum." _

_ "Warden," Zevran sighed, "You must push on... That is what you do best, no?" _

_ "Elanda... Please. I need you to be careful... Now more than ever." _

She grit her teeth and continued forward, every step forward a shooting pain through her muscles.

Maker knows what she looked like.

They'd been torturing her for what seemed like days, stabbing and healing, breaking and mending, freezing and scalding... But they never washed the blood away or healed the bruises. Perhaps if they'd been better people, the ones who healed could have done some good with their magic.

But just because her bones were healed and mended doesn't quite mean that her flesh and muscles weren't battered and bruised. Maker she missed the comfort of home; his ginger-brown hair holding the light of the evening sun better than the crown ever could, his honeyed hues staring at her like the was the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen, the scent of the campfire on his skin... The way he held her during the nights, facing each other, sometimes naked, sometimes not, it didn't matter. His arms made her feel more safe than the castle walls did.

People, spies, assassins could get passed the castle walls. But they couldn't get pass Alistair's arms.

Or Hafter's nose, for that matter.

Her faithful hound had been just a pup when Rendon Howe attacked Highever and betrayed the Cousland family.

He was what? Eleven now?

He'd imprinted poorly. On a mistress who would abandon him for what others would deem a lost cause. She couldn't. Maker's breath, she couldn't give up. Not when she'd been tortured for days, and days. And days.

_ "Shadows, Warden." Zevran coaches, "Lots of numbers. Stay as close as you can to the wall." _

And that she did. She realized now she was passing through another hallway, but gave her just enough room and shadow to stand still enough to let a few of them pass.

She knew the alarm would be raised soon if they went pass the next door and saw the dead bodies. Moving them wouldn't have done much good because of all the blood, but, at least she'd go down with a fight.

Once they had passed through the doorway she knew she had limited time. So she had to go out the door that they came in.

It was far past sundown, stars already shining out, the moons using the light of the sun to light her way through the night. She had to be careful- now especially. Archers perched at every tower, and the nearest one she saw looked twitchy.

"No, no." The other laughed, "Just angle her hips just so, do that, and she'll be chanting your name to the heavens."

_ "Sound advice." Zevran idly commented, "Keep moving Warden." _

Elanda didn't stop to listen in the first place, she needed to get out before she was caught. She had to wait however, for the door to open. Opening it herself would draw attention, but she couldn't help but feel like she was a sitting duck...

"Sound the alarm!" Someone shouted and the grip on her sword tightened, "The Lucerni are here!"

The... What? What was that? Some sort of animal? Group? Elanda didn't wait to find out, but she hoped that whatever it was, it could tell friend from foe. Or at the very least a prisoner from captors. 

With panic ensued she was almost able to slip inside the building unnoticed- almost.

"Prisoner loose!" Someone shouted and the fight was on and Elanda found herself fighting what seemed like impossible numbers, the red and black uniforms of the cult called the Venatori, and the purple and gold uniforms of... Well some other cult, probably- but they didn't attack her.

Not at first. They were about to before someone called a halt once the Venatori were dead, Elanda left panting and covered in blood like some sort of wild animal. 

That's when she felt a zapping sensation at the back of her neck and she realized it almost a moment too late: paralyze spell. She cursed as she fell to the ground- again, unmoving. At least she would get a look at her attacker... Until she saw the golden dragon mask. 

"Get her back to the base." He said,his voice deep and baritone, but the accent not at all Tevene... Orlesian, maybe? He was a warrior by the looks of him, the two handed sword on his back a dead giveaway, "I have a feeling Magister Tilani will want to have a look at her."

They produced a purple scarf and tied it around her eyes, because of course they did.

_ "What have you gotten into, my dear?" _

  
If only Elanda was able to answer him.


	2. By Your Will All Things Are Done

"Resting would be good for her, she's had quite the day." A deep chested female by the sounds of it- at least to Elanda. It had been a few hours since her attempted escape. It seemed that the fellow in the purple and gold tunic had  dumped her in a room that looked like some sort of guest room. In short; she went from one mysterious place to the next. She was thankful that all of her minor wounds from the skirmish were treated.

With Elanda wondering if the bruises under her tunic had been treated, she pressed her fingers into her shoulder. With a suppressed groan she had her answer: No. The bruises were not treated. She would see to that… After she figured out where she was. 

_ "Not very nice of them, is it?"  Leliana huffed. _

But Elanda was trying to focus on what was being said outside of the door.

"They took a Grey Warden prisoner?" Another voice, male. Definitely Tevene, "What do you think they could be planning?"

"If you're asking me," Another female voice replied with a scoff, "I might say they were trying to figure out who their prisoner was and what she was doing here... What is a Grey Warden doing this far east? Didn't most of them go to Weisshaupt after their little show at Adamant?"

The male seemed to hum in thought, "Someone is bound to know something about her- what's this... A rose?"

Elanda's heart pounded with relief, thankful that the Venatori didn't destroy it, but now her gut dropped and she was hoping that those currently handling her stuff wouldn't destroy it- it was one of the few personal items she had now... And one of the most precious. The more she thought about it, the more she realized she had to have it in her hands in order to ease her mind. 

She tried to get up, but the most she could do was sit up before laying down, evidently the paralyze spell hadn't wore off completely.

"It's enchanted." The deep chested female hummed, "It's very pretty... I say we give the Warden her things. It doesn't belong to us, and it would be a gesture of good will."

The male chuckled, "Making friends, Maevaris?"

The deep chested female laughed, Maevaris, if Elanda had pegged the responder with the previous comment, "There's more than what we see. I just want to know what puzzle pieces we're working with."

"Pavus, you were in the south for a time." The scoffing female spoke again, giving Elanda the name of the male, "Did you see this house crest before?" It told Elanda they were looking through her stuff, the woman currently holding- or at least looking at her fathers sword. The Cousland blade. Cousland of Highever. Maker, she wished her legs worked.

"Aria, what I saw of the south with the Inquisition was very controlled." ‘Pavus’ sighed. From what Elanda could tell the three of them were friends or at the very least delicate allies, "I don't know who that crest belongs to, but I can see that it's a blade of excellent quality. A blade of an Arl or a Bann, more than likely- which means she's Ferelden, at the very least."

"So... Are we dealing with a noble? Did she come to the blade by inheritance?" Aria questioned, "Or by other nefarious means?"

Elanda grit her teeth, how dare she. That woman would pay for the comment. In some way.

"Calm down, let's not be hasty." Wynne tried to advise, but it was no use, Elanda's personal honor had been insulted. She'd seen far too much to allow that sort of talk about her.

"And it's because you've been through so much that you shouldn't get worked up over someone who doesn't know you." Leliana tried to back Wynne up, but Elanda frowned further, wishing all of them would just go away.

"It's best to assume nothing." Maevaris commented, "We should go check on our guest."

Elanda did her best to sit up, leaning up against the wall, clutching her fingers. Her hands were healed, feeling almost good as new... The signet ring glimmering in the dim light on her middle finger. She could see the tan-line on her ring finger- where her wedding ring once was. But she couldn't risk it... Couldn't risk anyone getting close to him. She was lucky they didn't take the necklace... At the thought of it she pulls on the long chain that's around her neck, the locket of her joining and her wedding ring able to hide in the cleavage of her bosom.

_"A precious hiding place for such precious trinkets."_ Zevran chuckled, only turning into full blown laughter when Elanda found herself glaring into open space, having to remember once again: that no-one was there.

But her fingers found the familiar feathers on her ring, touching the silverite griffons, a red rose coming in the middle...

_ "I had it made in Orzamarr..." He whispered in her ear, late one evening, she was sitting between his legs with her back to his chest, his head leaning over her shoulder, kissing the exposed skin as he touched her fingers with his, "I knew... I knew I couldn't have anyone else in my life." He whispered, his idle arm pulling her naked form closer to him- as if that were possible, "I don't want anyone else." He murmured, "It's foolish to ask you not to do this... But... Elanda, just let me have one more night with you... My dear wife." He nuzzled the side of her face, "Hard to believe isn't it?" He asked with a chuckle, after he noticed she was still touching it, twisting it on her finger, "I'm so glad I met you, Elanda." He breathed, "My life would be nothing without you-" _

_ It caused Elanda to chuckle, "Going to repeat your vows again, Alistair?" She turned her head only slightly, but it was just enough for him to sweep his lips onto hers. _

_ "Until I'm old and grey, dear wife." Alistair chuckled, pulling away with a hum of approval, "Maker's breath but you're beautiful." _

She heard the door open and she scrambled to put the locket and ring back in between her breasts, adjusting her tunic quickly, clearing her throat of the emotion that had found it's way in her chest.

"Oh good!" The man was awfully cheerful, or at the very least upbeat, "Good to see the Venatori didn't kill off all of the Wardens."

Elanda looked at all of them, each of them tall, proud, and if Elanda said that they didn't seem at least a little vain- she'd be lying.

Pavus, stood on the right, tanned skin, black hair pulled back into a tail, hair shaved on the sides, black curling mustache beneath his nose. Dressed in mostly white leather, one of his arms exposed save for a few belts around his bicep and the gauntlet on his forearm, while the other arm was covered in a shoulder cape and an entire sleeve of sparkling metal and leather, the theme trailing down to the rest of him.

_ "It reminds me of a sparkling peacock." Shale spoke with irritation, "Can I squish it?" _

In the middle, she must have been the oldest, as well as the palest of the three, had short blonde hair, curling just at her neck, a strong pair of shoulders accompanying a strong jaw, wearing a blue and black corseted dress, a manner of blue fur decorating her shoulders and upper arms; all in all what Elanda would call a handsome woman.

_ "Get her in the sack any day." Oghren ogled, "Five sovereigns she's a wild one." _

On the far left stood a woman dressed in a red sleeveless coat and a high collar gold embroidery along the edges giving away to show skin maybe a shade darker than Dorian- the youngest and more petite of the three, black hair curled and untamed reminding Elanda of the brambles of the Becilian Forest but dark as the Void, a gold ornate septum piercing hanging between her nostrils, her sharp features analyzing Elanda like a hawk might close in on prey.

_ "It's always the pretty ones- not that they aren't all pretty in their own ways, mind you..." Zevran chuckled before adopting a warning tone, "Remember, Warden, the most poisonous snakes are often the most beautiful." _

_ "I don't like the way she's looking at you." Leliana's tone definitely agreed with Zevran, "Definitely be on your guard." _

"I," the handsome blonde woman introduced herself first, "Am Magister Maevaris Tilani. My colleagues are Magisters Dorian Pavus,"

"How do you do?" He smiled with a bow.

"And Aria Yvette Levine." Maevaris finished.

"Charmed." Aria raised a black eyebrow, her cold eyes looking Elanda over with near distaste. 

"Might who we be speaking with?" Dorian smiled, sitting in a chair closest to him, "After all it's not very often you get to meet a real Grey Warden one on one."

Elanda raised a red eyebrow, she was a Ferelden in the land of the Old Gods- a dog lord in the land of dragons. She had best play her hand carefully. Maevaris Tilani. Hadn't the masked warrior said something about Magister Tilani? Surely this was the same person.

Maevaris put the box full of Elanda's heavy silverite armor and miscellaneous items in front of her. "You're a bit south from your Fortress, Warden." Tilani was speaking of Weisshaupt, but Elanda didn't consider that home.

"And a bit north from home." Elanda commented, looking at the three of them for a moment, she knew they were all Magisters, but what did they want with her?

"Your accent." Dorian commented with a curious furrow of his eyebrows, "Ferelden?"

Elanda raised an eyebrow but nodded, "Your time with the Inquisition has served you well then."

"Listening in, were you?" Aria frowned and Elanda scoffed.

"And you could convince me you wouldn't do the same?" Elanda questioned, "I am in a unfamiliar territory with unfamiliar people. The least I can do is glean information from simple conversation."

Before Aria could respond, Maevaris put up a hand, thin and dainty- an interesting contrast from the rest of her body, "I have a deal to propose, Warden of Ferelden."

Elanda's grey gaze strayed from Aria's harsh agate hues and met with Maevaris' blue eyes, "And that would be?"

"You ask a question, I give an answer. Then I ask a question and you give an answer."

_ "Can you really trust people from Tevinter?" Oghren grumbled. _

_ "Be cautious, Warden. You watch them, but you have only two eyes." Wynne advised, "There are six on you." _

It was something she had to consider, she was out numbered- easily, she might be able to kill one, but she'd easily be killed by the other two... Elanda scanned the three of them once more, all mages- all Magisters were mages, so she had to expect this. She also had to accept the deal- it was the best she was going to get from probably anyone in the Imperium.

And the Venatori hadn't started out so kind. She had to take it. Keep her answers short and simple whilst trying to get all of the information she could.

"Very well." Elanda nodded, the first step in leaving was knowing where she was, maybe she could plan some manner of escape, "Where am I?"

Dorian laughed boisterously, "My dear, you are at the Pavus family estate in Qarinus."

Elanda scoffed, that was almost too easy, "Perhaps if your people knew you were just going to tell me where I was, they might have held off blindfolding me."

"If I didn't have the respect for you as a Warden I wouldn't have told you." Dorian seemed amused, but it made Elanda habitually hold her head higher. She at least was in a house of a Warden sympathizer. In Dorian's house, she would not be harmed. There was some comfort found in that.

"And now it's our turn." Aria stepped up, "Who are you?" She nearly bared her teeth at Elanda and the Warden was happy to stand, now that she was able to feel her legs. She stood to her full height, feet firmly planted on the carpet. Even with the mage wearing heeled boots Elanda stood taller, not allowing to be bullied by some damned Tevene Magister.

She took her father's sword in hand, but didn't draw it. Wincing as she moved, Elanda gave no other sign of weakness, "I'm Elanda Cousland." She annunciated, "The sword was my fathers. Before he died he gave it to me... So suggest I stole it again, and I'll run you through with it, _Magister_." Elanda growled, standing her ground- oh no. She would not be bullied by the Magister- no matter the circumstances.

"I'd like to see you try, Warden Cousland." Aria sneered and turned her face from Elanda and to Maevaris, "Call me if anyone interesting shows up, there is clean up to be done, and I have very little time for _just_ a Warden."

_ "Oh boy." Wynne sighed, "Warden, calm down." _

_ "Little does she know who she's talking to." Zevran chuckled. _

Elanda smirked as she watched Aria close the door with an attitude.

"Forgive Aria." Dorian spoke up with a chuckle, "She'll... Not try to kill you, not while we're here."

Elanda gave no indication that she 'forgave' the one named Aria, "I don't threaten people unless they insulted me." Her fists tightened, "and she insulted me greatly."

"She's one of your more typical Tevene." Maevaris chuckled, stroking her jaw, "At first glance anyways... However, Warden Cousland, I believe it's your turn to ask a question."

Elanda pondered this carefully. Her hand resting on the hilt of the Cousland sword. She had very little idea where Qarinus was, she'd only been to Tevinter once before, but she was full of questions, who were the 'Lucerni' that the cult was so worried about? The Venatori were no surprise to Elanda, cults never seem to die off fully- even when their figure head was killed before their very eyes.

What did they want with her? Why were these three Magisters keeping her?

That seemed like any decent place to start.

"Is there any reason I'm being held captive?" Elanda looked Maevaris in the eye.

Dorian bristled, almost offended, "Captive? No no, you're not captive, my dear." He crossed his legs in the chair, putting his foot on a knee, "We were just hoping you would tell us why the Venatori wanted you so badly."

Elanda shrugged, "I'm... Investigating something and I might have gotten too close to them somehow."

Maevaris raised a blonde eyebrow, "Investigating something? Like what?"

"A cure." The Warden stated, looking at her tightened hands.

"But why come to Tevinter for something as simple as a cure? Surely, there are healers in Ferelden that can help you with whatever ailment you might have?" Dorian's dark eyebrows furrowed and he looked to Maevaris and they shared a short curious glance before Elanda's bark of laughter shook both of them.

"Ailment?" she barked out a laugh, "Andraste's tits, you say it like we've got the common cold." She regained control of herself after dragging a hand down her face, "I'm here because Tevinter was the battleground of the first blight. It's my best start."

"Fasta vass..." Dorian mumbled before regaining his voice, "You're looking for a cure for the taint, you're looking to cure the Wardens."

Elanda nodded, she couldn't tell them all of the information. That was a need to know basis, and they didn't need to know.


	3. What One Man Gains, Another Has Lost

"Is that... Is that even possible?" Maevaris looked at Dorian with an unbelieving expression, "You worked with Gereon to try to cure it, did you not? Is such a thing even possible?" 

At this news Elanda's grey eyes narrowed in Dorian's direction and he looked like a man who was remembering a past good friend- totally oblivious to the nearly hounding glare that their Ferelden guest was giving him. 

"We spent two years trying to cure Felix... After that... He stopped trying." Dorian finally looked to the Warden, "I'm not sure I can help you, Warden." Dorian sighed, "I don't know how to get into his estate... And even if I could, I'm not sure the notes would even be there any more." 

Elanda thought for a moment, holding her chin with a pale hand, "I know someone. Get me a messenger and give me a few days. And I'll have a man." Her face took the form of a mischievous smile as Dorian and Maevaris went to fetch the much needed materials. Allowing Elanda to sit in peace twirling the enchanted rose in her hand. 

_ "Here, look at this... Do you know what this is?"  _

_ Elanda sat next to him by the fire, it was their watch for the night, or at least made it their watch since neither could sleep.  _

_ "It's a rose..."  _

_ "I picked it in Lothering." He held it in his large warrior hands like it was a newborn babe, "I remember thinking 'how could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness?'" He sighed heavily, turning it over in his hands and his ginger brown eyebrows furrowed, "I probably should have left it alone... But I couldn't. The Darkspawn would come and their taint would just destroy it... So I've had it ever since."  _

_ She listened intently with a smile, never taking her eyes off him while he spoke, "I'm glad you saved it, Alistair…” Elanda quietly admitted, “It's very pretty... What are you going to do with it?"  _

_ "I thought I might... Give it to you, actually." He turned to her with that goofy smile of his and she remembered her eye brows shooting up and a heat conquering her face as she blushed. _

_ "In a lot of ways..." He spoke putting the rose in her hands, "I think the same thing... When I look at you." He curled her gauntleted hands around the stem gently, his fingers lingering there for a moment before pulling away his hands entirely. _

She didn't realize she had held in a tear with a shaky breath before putting the rose in her leather satchel next to her large wooden mug. Things got so hectic so fast lately... It was hard to keep up.

_ "But when haven't they?" Alistair chuckled. _

She tried to ignore the voices. Maker, how long has this been going on? When would it end? 

"You certainly don't come with a lot of personal things." Dorian chuckled entering the room with a small box, making Elanda hurriedly clear her throat of any lingering emotion. . 

"Habit, I suppose. Makes it faster to just... Get up and go." She explained with a simple shrug, her bruised skin revolting at the idea of any movement.

Dorian put down the ornate box on the table next to her, "Had to do that often?" 

The Warden chuckled, "Very... But I had a bigger company at one time... And none of us had a home to go to..." She found herself actually missing it. 

"Maybe you can tell me about them." Dorian smiled, "I'm a good listener." 

The more information she gave out, the more at risk she was of being found out. And she had given her name out already- It was already too much. Her saving grace was that she was far far away from anyone who might even recognize her. 

"Maybe some..." She winced sitting in the chair, "Some other time." 

"Perhaps after we heal you, yes?" The mage chuckled, his hands hovering over her armored form beginning to glow a bright blue, "I told her to heal you fully..." Dorian sighed, "If only I had Piper- but alas." There's a moment where Elanda relaxes in the chair with her eyes closed and she can feel the magic working into her muscles- easing the bruised tissue, "And there we are." 

"Thank you." The Fereldan sighed with relief. 

The Tevene waved her off, "No need. You're a guest in _ my _ house. I won't see you treated badly." He crossed his arms across his chest, "I do apologize about Aria, in any case." 

Elanda scoffed, "She doesn't seem... The friendly sort." The Warden was putting it mildly. 

"She'd take that as a compliment." Dorian snorted, and leaned against a wall, "But I digress... I do love meeting new people." 

The warrior chuckled and began penning a letter and Dorian could help but watch, her script writing fluid, letters easily curving into one another- it was the writing of a higher education. Something Dorian took note of, but didn't express. Wardens came from all manner of backgrounds. It wasn't so odd that one might have been at the very least a minor Bann's or Arl's daughter. He was however noting that she was being very cryptic in her writing, and he could decipher none of it, his curiosity only heightened by this development.

“But I don’t actually… Know you.” Dorian commented, hoping it would bait the Warden into telling him at least a little more about herself. 

Elanda would disappoint him, “Perhaps it’s better that way with my time being as limited as it is.” 

But he probably didn't have to wait long to find out who she was since it was more than likely that Aria was using her rather convenient contact to try and do some research on the Warden. Aria rarely trusted anyone. And the one man she did trust- almost explicitly, had died. 

"So tell me," Elanda continued writing, "What  _ are _ the Lucerni?" 

Dorian laughed and Elanda stopped writing to raise an eyebrow at him. 

"My dear, that's us." He motioned around them, "There's four of us in total- at least four that we can speak about. Aria is our more Tevene... Diplomat, and I say that in a very loose term." 

Elanda got the hesitation almost immediately, "Really?" What Dorian wasn't saying out loud is that Aria was the Lucerni's double agent. She'd be inside the Magisterium not as a pariah but as a shining example of what the rest of the Magisters should be- all while performing her deeds for the Lucerni. 

"It keeps her leveled, knowing she's doing something for her homeland and bringing down a single magister at a time. Truly it's wondrous watching the woman work." Dorian twirled his mustache, "Maevaris and I... We're your friendly neighborhood proud pariahs." A smirk grew on his face, "We stand up for what we believe in, and are not afraid to do so. Then we have our own little spymaster, Calpernia. She works close in hand with Aria, for obvious reasons." 

"Calpernia..." Elanda repeated the name a few times, "That sounds familiar." 

"It should. If the Inquisitor had not gone after the mages, she would've lead the charge. But as it was, Corypheus only needed one puppet and when Calpernia was no longer deemed worthy, but managed to keep her power and status... Well, let's just say we had a head start." 

"You almost sound idealistic." Elanda observed, turning back to her letter.

"I am patriotic. I know what this country can be, but I also know it's going to take a lot of work." Dorian sighed, "This is my home. It has so much potential... It just needs to be in the correct hands." 

That sentiment resonated with Elanda. Could she say she was so different during the Fifth Blight? Even going so far to go against Duncan's teaching:  _ 'The Grey Warden's purpose isn't political.' _ Elanda chuckled at the mere thought, but Wardens had to do whatever it took to end blights. 

Even if it meant putting two of their numbers to unify Ferelden. Though truth be told, if Alistair hadn't proposed, she was sure he would've make a great King by himself, she was just... More on the army side of things. They were each-other's moral support. When he needed to remind everyone who was in charge of Ferelden, and the armies within, Elanda showed up in full Grey Warden regalia, and all she had to do: was stand next to him.

When the armies needed that morale boost, Alistair came with a large quantity of Ferelden beer and Elanda gave pretty speeches, songs were sung and the soldiers were more than happy to see their Commander loosen up after Alistair brought her in for repeated kisses around the bonfire. 

She missed those days. She missed the days where it was her and the ragtag group she called her friends. From time to time she even found herself missing the way Morrigan and Alistair tore into each other. But she had no idea where Morrigan went after the Inquisition disbanded. Or if she even stayed that long.  

A long sigh escaped her nose in reflex. She'd been alone for so long... She nearly forgot what another human being sounded like.

"Something on your mind?" Dorian questioned with a raised eyebrow noting how her hands paused for a moment.

"Nothing worthy of a stranger's note." Elanda murmured, finishing the letter and leaning back into the chair, allowing the ink to dry. 

"We're not going to be strangers for very long." Dorian chuckled understandingly, "If you know someone who can get into the Alexius family estate, then you're going to need my help deciphering the notes." 

Elanda stared at the page of parchment, Dorian wasn't wrong, of course. "But that of course assumes that the notes are there at all. And you said they might not be." Though for sanity's sake alone, she hoped they were.

"It has been ten years." Dorian sighed, "But what's the harm in looking? So long as we don't get caught." 

Elanda chuckled, the ink dry enough to fold the paper and take a glove off revealing her signet ring, and grabbing the wax from the ornate box and after lighting a candle and dripping the wax, she printed her Grey Warden seal and stood up, "Your messenger?" 

"Right this way." Dorian led her to the poor man who looked nervous, but was dressed in Dorian's colors, but they were covered with a black cloak. 

"This goes to Weisshaupt. When you say ‘This is for Cousland’s mathematician’ if he has a bow, they’ve sent you to the right one.” The Warden’s instructions were very clear. “This letter is to only be seen by his eyes.”

The messenger nodded and began his journey to Weisshaupt.

"Mathematician?" Dorian questioned his eyebrows furrowing, "That’s oddly specific. The Wardens have mathematicians in their ranks?" 

"Wardens can be a lot of things." She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, "And besides, it makes him quite the marksman." 

"So until then what will you do?" 

Elanda sighed with a shrug, "Truthfully? I couldn't tell you... I need to explore, try to find... Something." She looked at him as if he had any advice.

"Well anything even worth mentioning is a week or more out..." Dorian watched her shoulders fall and look away at the news, "Why don't you stay here until your friend comes by, hm?" 

Elanda frowned, how could she argue with that? If she went anywhere she'd miss the arrival of her ally- not to mention the more eyes she had with her the less likely she would miss something. One the other hand: if she didn't, she would be plagued by the madness going in on in her head- not to mention the irritation that would grow due to inaction. 

"Might you have a training yard?" 

"Might I suggest a bath first?" Maevaris walked in holding a small box and handing it to Elanda, "It would relax your muscles, and would give Dorian and I time to go over some new information." 

"Information?" Elanda asked with a quirked eyebrow, taking the box in her hands- finding it lighter than she expected. 

"You have your secrets, Warden." Maevaris gave a sly smile, "And we have ours. But rest assured: Should it include you, you  _ will _ know." 

Though for Elanda, the word of a magister didn’t hold any weight for her. She would have to wait. 


	4. They Have Lived Too Long in Shadow

There was something strange about the way the Warden carried herself- she wasn't telling all and since her companions forbade her use of blood magic, ( "We have to show everyone that Tevinter _can_ change." ) Aria found herself forced to go another way for information.

Because if there was something she hated, it was not knowing about your potential enemy. Or potential ally. But a Warden? This far east? Something was sure to be amiss. There had to be.

With her contact being so close by, it would be silly for her to not just ride out to him. After all he had found the city of Qarinus to his liking, for the moment.

She found him easily enough, black tattered cloak melodramatically fluttering in the coastal winds as he sat down the mask on his lap. He was bold, to be sure. But he knew where his fortune was to be made. And in a land where Magisters had each other assassinated? _How could I not make a killing?_ He had said the joke to her with a laugh.

"And that is how I won a bet against the current king of Ferelden." He grinned, the Antivan accent ringing through the air as a few Tevene citizens listened and laughed to his tale, "It was nearly the easiest five silvers I have ever made." He chuckled, his gold eyes spotted Aria, her two tailed coat billowing behind her as she walked closer to him, "Magister Levine." He bowed after standing up from his chair, "Always a pleasure to see you." He kissed the tip of her hand in his usual Antivan greeting, "What can I do for you?"

"I require your assistance." Aria got right to business, happy that a glass of their best wine had made itself known in front of her.

"Naturally." The Antivan grinned, his head cocking to the side leaning on a fist to listen intently, "Who might I be murdering so soon, hm?" He let a grin slide across his face as he sighed heavily, "Continue this dance my dear, but we all know eventually I will find a way into your bed." He knew he wouldn't, but who's to say he couldn't at least entertain the idea- there was in fact some allure to danger.

But Aria wasn't going to be fooled or distracted by his charm, or his roguishly handsome looks. She wasn't going to be lulled into complacency just because he remembered her favorite wine and he held good company. Aria was here for business- and would never be speaking to him for anything else. She didn't care that she was speaking to an elf, regardless of what prattle the magisterium would whisper. She only cared that she was speaking to a Crow... Or a killer of the Crows, as she understood his reputation.

"You can try." Aria took a small sip of wine, noting the distinct buzz of lyrium on her lips, "We've come across a Venatori prisoner. She's not telling us everything. And I need you to find out information."

He looked at her with a playful scoff, "Information is not what I specialize in. If you wish you have her killed by all means, but information? Surely you must have people to do these things for you."

"She's a warden." Aria spoke taking another sip of wine, watching the sun-kissed Antivan look dreamily into the distance, the only indication he was even listening was the way his eyebrow shifted, "And I thought with your previous Warden connection, you might be able to garner information."

He scoffed, leaning back into the seat, "The Warden _I_ knew left for her own quest. It is true I can go to Weisshaupt, but there are more profitable alleys of revenue for me to pursue. Especially in a land where everyone kills everyone- truly, it is a bit Antivan." He sighed dreamily, as if missing his homeland, "But if you are indeed set on this course of action, I can look into this matter. Give me a name and I can start working."

Aria smirked, she knew he wouldn't be able to pass up an opportunity, "She calls herself Elanda Cousland." Aria scoffed, "Pavus thinks she's a Bann's daughter from Ferelden, but Wardens will take in anyone."

His golden eyes flickered at Aria and his matching eyebrows raised, "Cousland," He spoke thoughtfully, "Elanda Cousland... Hm. What an interesting name... I will do my best." He grinned, "Perhaps I can take a look through her things?"

Aria frowned, "Very well, Arainai... I presume she is getting clean- she smelled awful." Aria scoffed with a roll of her eyes as she took another sip from her glass.

"Fereldens often do- believe me, I traveled with a few of the most Ferelden of Fereldens to walk Thedas... And they always smelled like dog..." He pretended to look thoughtful, "Though, it didn't help that we were always downwind from the dog..."

Aria could care less about his time with the Hero of Ferelden. She didn't need to know anything more, and yet etiquette made her sit still, and continue drinking her wine.

"Such a frown, my dear." Zevran playfully chided, "I can see you once smiled, I know a lot of methods to get one smiling again..." He raised a blonde eyebrow as he attempted to put his best charming grin on his face.

Aria closed her eyes and gripped the last fleeting image she had of her late betrothed, the way he cradled her face before he left... And he wasn't coming back. What little happiness she had in this world was indeed gone.

"I care for nothing and no one." She gritted through teeth, tasting the lie on her tongue like a bitter wine, "Save for destroying those that stand in my way."

"Oh so serious." He raised his hands in mock defeat, "Very well. You shall play hard to get. But eventually I will get you to smile. I do have wily wily ways."

Aria scoffed and placed the glass down on the table, "To business?"

"Lead the way." He stood with a smirk as he fastened on his black crow mask.

* * *

 

Elanda groaned with relief at the hot water around her aching muscles. The bathroom was ornately decorated, like the rest of the house, the white porcelain bath had the feet of dragons.

For obvious reasons, Elanda had noted Tevinter's ongoing dragon motifs. Whether it was in architect, or statues, clothes or even house hold decor, dragons were _everywhere_.

_"How could someone worship Archdemons?" Leliana asked in her head, "I mean, their terrifying."_

_"There's always a certain allure to power, isn't there? I mean how were ancient Tevinters any better than that cult we saw at the temple?" Alistair retorted, "Dragon blood is rumored to have quite the punch- if you can access its power anyways."_

_"Why would you want to?" Leliana scoffed, "The Warriors we saw at the temple were almost drunk with power, nearly uncontrolled-"_

Elanda let out a long, irritated sigh and they all went quiet.

"Thank you." She mumbled, reaching for her necklace again, messing with her wedding ring on the chain before pulling off the chain slipping the ring onto her finger.

_"Join me for a bath, Alistair?" She barely had a towel wrapped around her form as she looked at him as he stood._

_"There's a dagger underneath your pillow." He spoke as he quickly began discarding his tunic, "And a choosing of swords in the armory, if I ever say no, I want you to use them on me."_

Elanda nearly laughed out loud at the memory, before remembering she was not alone now, so she lowered the volume and intensity of her laugh, messing with the ring and twirling it on her finger as she relaxed in the water.

"Denerim is only a month of travel if you take the Imperial highway..." Alistair hummed in the back of her mind, though she could nearly swear she felt him enter the water behind her and wrap his arms around her, "You could come home..." He murmured in her ear, his lips hovering not even an inch over her skin, hands traveling down her stomach, feeling the taught muscles with his calloused palms.

Elanda leaned into him with closed eyes and hummed with approval, "Maker," she mumbled, "You drive me crazy."

Alistair chuckled, "Only in the best way, I'm sure..."

"Alistair-" she turned around to cradle his face to kiss him and saw that he wasn't there. Her mind playing cruel tricks on her. Elanda put her arm on the edge of the porcelain bath and leaned her forehead against it, both of her fists tightening as her shoulders began to silently shake with sobs.

All an illusion. His voice in her ear, hands on her skin- all a fucking dream.

_"The Fade can be a cruel mistress." Zevran agreed, "But you have survived the Fade, remember?"_

_There was an awkward laugh, "And besides-" Alistair cleared his throat, "I would have been much more charming, I assure you."_

Elanda let a broken smile break through her face of tears as she rinsed off her face and began actually washing her hair and body. She steps out of the bath and begins drying herself off and seeing a note on top of a small box;

_We had to guess your size. - Maevaris_

Elanda raised an eyebrow at the note before taking the lid off of the small box and seeing clothes- a short-sleeved dark blue tunic with ornate silver trappings on the front, the design of the relatively short collar following all the way down to her bust line- followed by black cotton trousers, with the same silver design going down the hem line of both her legs.

_"This is minimalistic fashion for Tevinters." Leliana tried to provide insight, "But I'm sure if you become a more permanent guest, they might try to fit you with a more Tevinter look."_

_"Yes," Alistair's tone dripped with sarcasm and unamusement, "Because we all want that, don't we?" It would no doubt be accompanied by a roll of the eyes._

But Elanda wasted no time in slipping on the small clothes (even if they were meant for a male) and tied the breast band as loose as it would go (it was too small for Elanda's warrior form) but she didn't complain. They were clean, dry and a gift from her Tevinter hosts.

She pulled the tunic over her head and trousers over her legs, pulling her boots on after the socks. She was glad to be dry and clean.

She missed her heavy leather tunic from home, well- missed home in general, but couldn't afford to stop now. She took a breath before opening the doors and seeing two of the four known Magisters talking over wine.

"Ah, Warden!" Dorian smiled widely, making a hand motion as if she was an old friend being invited to a party, "Just the woman who might be able to help."

"Help?" Elanda asked sitting down at the end of the table, a single red eyebrow raised, "How?"

"I believe we have found out who ordered your kidnapping." He grinned, "And we will need you to recount your... 'Visit' before he's publicly shamed."

"He'd be publicly shamed because my words would put him in league with the Venatori." Elanda pieced it together, leaning back in her chair, crossing her legs at the knee.

"Not to mention a magister torturing a Grey Warden?" Maevaris clicked her tongue in disdain, as if she was chiding a child, "Grey Wardens are heroes, regardless where there from... And mutilating someone of respect..."

_"Not to mention risking war with Ferelden because of your marriage..." Zevran added_ in the back of her mind as if it were an afterthought and she nearly waved off the comment with a hand, but he had a point.

Elanda folded her hands on the table, "Have we thought about what would happen?" She asked carefully, "A magister with Venatori ties would interest the Wardens, but it might also elicit a violent response."

"As true as that is, isn't a Grey Warden's purpose not political?" Dorian raised a black eyebrow.

Elanda barked out a laughter, "It's amazing sometimes," she gathered herself together, "What revenge will make some people do. The Wardens are angry how that Erimond magister was so easily planted. They find out there's another magister with Venatori ties? It would be bloody... We need to keep this quiet."

_"Devious aren't you, Warden?" Zevran chuckled, "Keeping it quiet insures your identity being kept a secret. You are lucky these people don't know you like we do."_

But it was more then that. It was her need for revenge on Loghain that made it an easy decision to put Alistair on the throne- it kept him mostly out of harms way... Something she remembered him saying he hated at the very beginning... If she hadn't been so bent of revenge or if she had given Anora some trust, then maybe Alistair could've been a Warden... Maybe they could've done this together...

_"You cannot punish yourself with what could have been." Leliana offered in consolation,_ and Elanda nearly reached up to feel the bard's hand on her shoulder- but kept her hands on the table.

_"And to be honest, you helped me believe in myself." Alistair offered, and she could nearly see him kneeling in front of her in her mind, he would have taken her hands in his, "We are the best King and Queen to rule Ferelden, Elanda... Never doubt that."_

She took a moment to swallow down the emotion that was raising in her chest and bringing herself back to the situation at hand.

"Didn't you say that Aria would be able to get on the inside? Couldn't she plant evidence of..." Elanda rubbed her forehead, "Blood magic or something?"

"He'd be publicly shamed... He'd lose his position... And maybe someone would get the inspiration to kill him. No need to get the Wardens involved." Dorian understood, "Everything is dealt with quietly and within the Imperium."

Dorian and Maevaris both seemed happy with this turn of events, but they each looked at Elanda like she wasn't telling the whole truth. But how could they say such a thing when they hadn't either? It bothered Maevaris only a little to not know who they were truly dealing with, but Dorian didn't seem to mind- nearly saw it as a challenge to figure out who she was on his own, not that he was someone who could know their personality in full just by looking, but he knew enough to know that they were dealing with someone who had at least a noble upbringing.

Elanda sat back in her chair, it hasn't even been a day and every muscle in her body was screaming to go and do something. She was Elanda Cousland. She couldn't just sit here and do nothing. She juggled the idea of riding out to meet her Warden ally, but dismissed the idea. She didn't know Tevinter... But maybe she should- starting with the city.

"Where are you going?" Dorian asked with a raised eyebrow as she got up.

"I'm not your prisoner," Elanda stretched as she got up, "So I was thinking about surveying the nearby area. I might find something of use after all."

"You're not our prisoner, no." Maevaris agreed, standing up, her fingers gracing the table, "But Tevinter is still an unfriendly place, Warden."

"Very well." Elanda nodded, walking to the stand that had her armor on it, each piece in its correct spot. It had been cleaned and repaired, no doubt by magic since she heard no smithies in her limited time in the estate. But it wasn't her armor she was after.

She slung her sword belt around her waist before adding her sword to it. "I always come armed."

"You think your sword will help you in a land full of mages?" Maevaris raised a blonde eyebrow, "You've got tenacity, Warden, but tenacity alone will not save you."

"I've faced worse with less." Elanda had a somber tone as she spoke the words, tying the leather that held her sword to her belt.

"I will accompany you." Dorian smiled, "Maevaris I believe you can handle the situation without me for the moment... Besides-" he grabbed his staff, "I've been craving candied dates."

Maevaris covered her mouth with a hand as she laughed, "Very well. Try not to get killed."

"Yes, because Aria would just _love_ that." Dorian walked to Elanda's side, "Let's see what trouble we can get ourselves into."


	5. I Shall Give You Designs

"Don't waste any time, do you?" Dorian chuckled as they entered a decadent tavern that was close to the edge of the Qarinus market.

Dorian found it odd that a Grey Warden would go here of all places. It wasn't a lie to say that they had the best honeyed wine in any Tevinter city that wasn't Minrathous, but he didn't pet the Warden as one who drank- but perhaps he didn't know what to think about Elanda.

She showed respect by tying a black and gold fabric that was handed to her by the innkeeper around the hilt of her blade. She tied it loosely, Dorian noted, a slight pull could pull the knot undone and it would no longer be 'peace tied'. Either Elanda couldn't tie a knot, or the looseness of it was purposeful. Dorian assumed the latter- she seemed careful, in almost everything she did, her grey eyes scanning the seductively lit tavern, her eyes scanning over the people twice over before she sat down.

Dorian sat next to her with a raised eyebrow, "Sampling the local flavor?" He chuckled, noting how the moment he sat down they were tended to, after all, why should they not be? He was a Magister after all.

"Avanna, Magister Pavus!" The tavern keeper took a bow and Elanda noted the glittering smile that Dorian have the fellow, "How can we help you and your friend this lovely afternoon?"

"Pull one of your vintage numbers from the cellar." Dorian smiled, "The further back the better."

"As you wish." The tavern keeper eyed Elanda warily and she stared him down with a scowl before he walked away, allowing Elanda to scan the tavern again. She could smell the water from the outside as the door opened and closed constantly, and it made her a little homesick, but she had to press on. Had to.

There was a woman with blonde double buns sitting in a corner, looking over papers with two men sitting across from her patiently as they did their business, and Elanda's stomach turned to when she began to think of the 'business' they were doing.

_"Slavers." Alistair growled, "You can't own a person."_

_"Tell them that." Zevran chuckled, "And the Crows."_

_"You won't let them get away with this will you?" Leliana pleaded._

Elanda bore their faces into her mind, the woman with the double buns was thin and had a light dusting of freckles, but had an air around her that said she was a Magister and when she opened her mouth Elanda could see a faint gap between her two front teeth. This Magister couldn't have been much older than Elanda herself.

This magister enabled slavery. She was just as bad as the slavers themselves. The two of them, brothers if Elanda could tell by their matching noses from here.

_"Determined aren't we? I suppose we will go after the Crows next, yes?" Zevran snickered._

_"I thought you were taking care of them, Zevran?" Alistair smirked, "After all, it is what you left Denerim for."_

_"Warden." Wynne emerged from the bickering men, "If you kill these two there will always be more where they came from."_

_"It will be fighting a losing battle then?" Shale asked, as she contributed to the conversation._

Elanda growled and wished she could just start sharpening her sword, but oh no, it was peace tied. She rolled her eyes and found when she couldn't commit their faces anymore into her memory she started humming angrily.

_"You have fought an Archdemon, kadan." Sten reassured her, his flat voice nearly becoming warm, "Taking out two Tevinter slavers and a magister will be nothing."_

Her posture relaxed and she watched them conclude business, and the three of them walked out, the Magister making eye contact with Dorian before she fully passed their tables and Elanda raised a red eyebrow and watched her leave the tavern, the door shutting behind them.

Dorian looked like he wanted to say something, but it was not the time or place. Behind doors within the Pavus estate perhaps, but not here, and it didn't give Elanda any sort of comfort.

Elanda also spotted another figure in the corner, cloaked, but she could tell by the way they were sitting that they had been watching the whole tavern, very much like Elanda had. Her hand slowly lowered to her sword but the figure didn't move and before she could untie the ribbon on her sword, the tavern keeper came out with a bottle that looked freshly dusted off and two wine glasses.

"For the Magister and his friend." The Tavern keeper spoke as he uncorked the bottle after placing the glasses down on the table.

"Thank you." Elanda found herself saying, and retracted her hand from her sword. She would have to be very careful- the figure was gone from sight and it made her uneasy.

"Not from around here are you?" The man asked with a nervous laugh as he poured the dark orange liquid into the glass.

Elanda cursed herself silently as she had slipped up, yes good manners were appreciated everywhere but the more she spoke the more she revealed, "That obvious?" She looked at him, the slightly rounded man only smiled.

"I have an ear for accents."

"So you do." Elanda spoke softly, continuing to look around the tavern, but spotted no one out of the ordinary- unnerved that the man in the cloak was gone.

"Don't speak very much, do you?"

_"Parshaara!" Sten exclaimed, "He is annoying. Tevinter always had bad manners... Even the dwarfs manners were better- despite how he smelled."_

_"The tavern owner is just making polite conversation." Leliana argued, "the more talkative ones are more likely to give up information."_

"Not when I don't have to." Elanda relaxed, Leliana was right after all. They weren't going to get any information if Elanda was giving the cold shoulder, "What is a place you could recommend?"

The tavern keeper nervously glanced from Dorian who smiled as he sipped his wine back to Elanda who looked at him with a gentle but expectant expression.

"Depends what you want to do, or where you like to visit... A lot of people who come through Tevinter like to go visit Minrathous, there's nothing like it in the world- not even Orlais compares."

Dorian hummed with agreement, "Couldn't agree more."

Elanda also made a hum but it was of intriguing thoughts- in her mind the only difference between Orlais and Tevinter was the open use of slaves and blood magic, and where Tevinter had repeating dragon motifs, Orlais had lion motifs. Not that she would say such a thing outloud, of course.

"But perhaps you might want to go to Asariel? Some of the prettiest estates are there, even the ones in disrepair."

Elanda raised an eyebrow to pretend to be in thought, but neither intrigued her. Granted with her current group consisting of Tevinter Magisters, she knew that they would make the trip to Minrathous- for business or otherwise.

"But the scholars that come through here like to visit the old temples- granted some of them have been remodeled into Circles now."

_"I believe we have a winner." Zevran cheered with a grin._

"Oh? Is that right?" Elanda grinned, and Dorian raised a dark eyebrow, it had been the first time he'd seen her smile, actually smile- and it was about temples. He would have to remember that, "Which temples are more popular?"

"The temple of Dumat is popular, but with the fifth blight in recent memory, Urthemiel's temple has been quite popular too." The tavern keeper looked to Dorian, "Shall I go get the map?"

"There is no need. The Carastes circle isn't that far." Dorian smiled, "But it is appreciated." Dorian smiled and watched the man walk off once more. Dorian turned to Elanda, "Digging through history, my dear?"

"Ancient history." Elanda nodded, "And yes. I will need books on all of the Tevinter Old Gods... It should keep me occupied until the other Warden appears."

"And who is this mysterious Warden?" Dorian chuckled, "Do we get to meet the rose-giver?"

Elanda's grey eyes fell to her wine glass, taking a small sip, making a sour face as she hadn't let it breathe for anywhere near long enough, "Not if I can help it."

Dorian's expression fell with hers, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

She put a hand up, silencing him, "No, no... It's..." She took a deep breath.

_"I won't ever leave you. You know that." Alistair gently reminded her._

"It's fine." She took another sip making a bitter face again, "I was the one who left."

"Then why don't you go back?" Dorian asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Because I can't... Makers breath." She covered her face with her hand, grinding her teeth together, "Not until I've succeeded."

Dorian wanted to console her, but he was never quite good at it. But he always knew what would numb the pain. So when the tavern owner came back with a wave of Dorian's hand, he ordered what he called 'The Doglord Beer'.

Elanda sadly chuckled as a silver mug nearly manifested in front of her and the familiar heady scent of Ferelden beer making itself known to her nose.

"Dorian... You didn't-"

Now it was Dorian's turn to raise his hand, "Drink, you'll feel much better." He raised his mug and she raised hers and they clinked together and took a drink.

* * *

* * *

 

"You let her go?" Aria scowled heavily as she tapped her boot on the tile.

"She isn't our prisoner, Aria." Maevaris replied with irritation, dipping her bright blue glass pen in black ink, "She's with Dorian, it's not like he won't keep her from going anywhere."

Aria growled and clenched her hands in frustration, "Venhedis." and put her tanned, well manicured hand on her forehead, "Tilani, we have no idea who we're dealing with and _you_ decide it's fine to let Pavus give her a tour of Qarinus?" Her teeth nearly grated, "This is a decision the both of you should have spoke with Calpernia and I about." 

"Trust is how you get information from allies, Aria."

"How do we know she's an ally?" Aria waved her hand in front of her, "Tilani, you are far too trusting."

"And you're far too suspicious." The blonde smiled wryly, "Now we can get along in peace and harmony."

Aria frowned and turned around putting her hands behind her back, she wasn't suspicious. She was cautious. She would rather err on the side of caution, then having something come up later down the road- and the Warden was just a surprise waiting to happen. She had come too far to turn back now. She was rising in the Magisterium, even the Imperial Divine had taken notice- which was a feat in itself. Her place of shining was within the Magisterium and it's politics, Tilani and Pavus were just quiet decorations and accents along her career.

The Warden posed problems.

"If you haven't found something, Arainai, I will murder you myself."

"Such promises," Zevran playfully chided, as he twirled the enchanted rose in his fingertips, humming in quiet delight, "She's a sentimental one, this... What did you say her name was?"

"Cousland. Warden Elanda Cousland."

He hummed thoughtfully and placed the rose on the table rummaging through the leather satchel, "Keeps very few things with her... Interesting habit, really."

"And you could say differently?" Aria rolled her eyes.

"There's that glorious wit." Zevran chuckled, "But the rose and tankard is the only thing worth of note."

"A tankard?" Aria groaned as she watched him pull the tankard on the table, "She's a sentimental drunkard with little possessions-" Another roll of her agate eyes, "Because that's not typical in the slightest."

"You are thinking far too basic my dear." Zevran grinned, "It's not about what the tankard holds, but what it actually is."

"Get to the point, Arainai." Aria snapped, "This game of guessing is not a game I like to play."

"Not a good liar are you?" He continued to grin, "Do you not do so every day within your Magisterium? Or do you only play the game when it suits you?"

Aria frowned and crossed her arms, "What do you know?" She scowled, not wanting to waste any energy in someone she would probably end up killing down the line anyways.

"Other than she is just a sentimental drunkard?" Zevran threw her own words at her, "Absolutely nothing." He said after a moment of chuckles.

"Very well. I'll double what I normally pay you. Get rid of her."

"Double? How very steep." Zevran grinned, "You must want to be rid of her indeed. Why such hatred against a Warden?"

"That is no concern of yours, Arainai." Aria scoffed, "Just get it done."

He bowed and she began walking away.

* * *

* * *

 

Perhaps this should have been expected. They had nearly finished the Ferelden beer, before Dorian and Elanda were joined by a pair of leering drunks.

"The only one who gets to be a leering drunk is me." Ogrhen mumbled.

Elanda gave them both a once over and Dorian half expected for her hand to grab he sword, but instead she turned away and ignored them, clearly deeming them unworthy of even a word of hello. How could he blame her? They couldn't seem to keep their eyes inside their heads, which seemed to fall at any given moment.

"Heard you talkin' to the owner. Not from around here are ya?" The drunk leaned on the table, "By your taste in drink I'd say you were a Ferelden wench."

Elanda didn't budge even when she could smell the man, body odor along with the alcohol. But she said nothing, even when the eyebrows of the second one furrowed with irritation.

Dorian began to stand and Elanda merely shook her head, she could take care of this.

_"I'd give 'em the standard warning, boss."_

Elanda found Oghren's advice more than fair, "You get one." Elanda spoke taking the tankard in her hand once more as she took a sip holding a single finger.

Dorian went to speak up to try and mend some sort of peace- but when he saw the smirk on Elanda's face as she placed down her tankard from the drink, the drunk went for a swing and missed- by mere inches, Dorian could see her hair swish with the force behind the punch. They regretted that because Elanda moved faster than even he might've anticipated.

She gripped his free arm and twisted it behind his back, taking her other hand and gripping the back of his head and looked at Dorian, "Pick up the drinks."

Without a question, Dorian lifted their drinks and cups from the table with a flick of his hand, a light green glow surrounding the objects as he did so, and without any hesitation Elanda slammed the first drunks forehead on the edge of the table, letting go of the back of his head and letting the burly drunk slump to the floor with a groan.

"You get one." Elanda repeated looking at the second drunk with a cool expression, her arms loose at her sides before the drunk lunged at her and she rolled her eyes, stepping to the side and letting him trip over his partner.

_"They always seem to go for the lunges, don't they?" Zevran chuckles, "Thankfully drunks never seem to learn."_

To keep the man down, Elanda gave him a swift and powerful punch.

"Do you need me to throw these guys out?" Elanda asked the tavern owner who had a raised eyebrow.

"A bit rude, don't you think?" Dorian chuckled, "A ditch might be far more comfortable."

Elanda barked out a laugh, but waited for the owner to speak, and soon he mumbled out the words, "W-whatever you want to do with them."

_"A ditch does sound quite lovely." Zevran hummed with agreement, "Especially in such a hot climate."_

_"I'm with Zevran on this one, my dear. They came after you- that's not something I can easily forgive.... Nor would I want to."_

_"You don't know their life." Leliana argued, "It is true they came after you, but you didn't give them a chance to-"_

_"What did they need a bloody chance for?"_

_"Put them in a room. Surely your new friend can afford a singular room."_

Elanda looked up at Dorian, "Dorian."

He raised an eyebrow, "Yes?" He could tell by her tone she had a suggestion. 

"What say we be good Samaritans and pay for a single room, lay them on their stomachs and let the Maker deal with them." She smirked.

It only took an instant for Dorian to catch her meaning; the two drunks would owe both Elanda and Dorian a favor, not something he would pass up.

"Set these fine gentlemen up with a room, and leave a note that says to arrive at least clean at the Pavus Estate." That was enough of a reminder and in the span of a few moments, it was done and the duo was sitting at the table quietly once again, "I think we work well together."

"You're not the first to say so." She smirked, finishing the Ferelden beer, "Start talking about our trip to the circle." she spoke, "I want to chart a course before the other Warden arrives."


	6. The Words of Silence Were Revealed

_You are free now_

She doesn't say it, even as she's looking over the small group that she had bought. It doesn't matter if they're skinny, or muscular; if they're Elvhen, or human; if they are from Orlais or Rivain. It does not matter. She is in a position of power to do something about their lives. She knows she cannot change Tevinter at the top- not instantly, but to fix the sickness you start with the blood. And the blood of Minrathous, and thus Tevinter, were the slaves.

"To your liking?" One of the couriers smiled as Calpernia carefully looked at the lot of them, frightened- some of them. A little Elvhen girl was shaking in the robes that barely clung to her. Calpernia's hazel eyes glanced over the young girl and she spotted a dark spot of purple along the upper legs and Calpernia became incensed.

She remembered the beatings, she remembered the whippings. She remembered being completely alone even among her fellow slaves.

Calpernia wanted to reach out to the young Elvhen girl and console her that all would be well. That she would be free.

But now she had to take care of the courier who smiled sickeningly and Calpernia found that familiar warmth growing on her fingertips along with her rage. She quickly calmed the fire within her hands and nodded to the couriers who walked into the room designated as her office. It was decorated with flags of Tevinter, and the dome ceiling redone like the library of her previous master, Erasthenes. Constellations made out with gold leaf... Gilded glass made out every star, it allowed her to reminisce.

And now she drew upon the anger that flowed in her blood.

"Did I not state they were to be unharmed?" She nearly bellowed, turning to the pair of couriers, "You do not treat them as I specified and you still want me to pay extra?"

"M-mistress Calpernia," One of them began to stutter, "We had to get them out, there was a man-"

"Very well." She growled, it was an excuse she had heard many times before from others, "If they are to be harmed then so are you."

The door was locked as she immobilized them- she made them feel just as they, and their masters made the slaves feel. Powerless, frightened, and at the mercy of someone immensely more powerful then they were.

She burned onto their skin, but she wanted to send a message. This wouldn't happen again. Not now, not ever. She was going to see to that.

There was no room for apologies, the deed was done, and she had the power to do far worse. But once she deemed they were in enough pain she looked down on them, they were a product of an animal that no longer lived, but leeched. A symptom.

"I will have you delivered back to your masters." She curled around to her desk, sitting in the chair, watching as two of her people, previous slaves who had come back to her after they were free, came to collect the two couriers who flinched with every move Calpernia made, "And if there are any more damages... I will kill you myself."

The couriers nodded emphatically as they were made to stand and escorted out of her sight.

She followed very close after going back into the courtyard where the small group of slaves stood and she unclasped their cuffs, one by one. "You are all important." She stated, "More important than you realize." She looked into the eyes of the young Elvhen girl and Calpernia could see that she had needed to hear these words for a long time, "I will see that slavery is no more, I have bought you, so I can release you." She took a step back and saw the slaves looking around as if it was a dream.

As perhaps it might have been if it weren't Calpernia. "I want to give Tevinter a rebirthing, Tevinter can be mighty again, and without its use of blood magic and slavery." She clenched her fist in front of her, "But I need your help. I can give you a voice that the Archon will listen to!" She looked over them again, some were young, not as young as she once was, but young enough to be too young, "If you want to be apart of something important, I will see you fed, I will give you an education, I will not squander your abilities." Calpernia took a breath, "However, if you want to go back to your families, I will see it done."

Sometimes slaves left, but this time only one left, the rest had stayed. Those with no where left to go. Those who considered Tevinter their home, for good or ill. Calpernia was glad to bring them into her family. She cherished every single voice.

She would not let what happened to her happen to them.

* * *

 

"You should know," Dorian started out as Elanda stared at him and he could see the wheels in her mind beginning to go, "They won't take kindly to a Warden busting in and asking questions."

Elanda raised a red eyebrow, "And why not? I thought mages would be happy to answer any questions- especially Tevinter mages when it's about their own past."

"That would be the case," Dorian leaned in, "If we weren't talking about the blight."

_"Let's ignore that it was Tevinter who brought the blight on the world." Alistair grumbled._

Elanda leaned back in her chair, "The blight _is_ their history." Anyone who had even lived knew that the Tevinters of a thousand years ago invaded the black city, she took a small breath as she began to recite a portion of the Chant, "Deep into the earth they fled, away from the Light. In Darkness eternal they searched for those who had goaded them on, until at last they found their prize; their god, their betrayer: The sleeping dragon Dumat. Their taint twisted even the false-god, and the whisperer awoke at last, in pain and in horror, and led them to wreak havoc upon all the nations of the world-"

"'The first blight.'" Dorian finished with a sigh and a frown, leaning back in defeat "I didn't realize you were the religious sort."

_"Not every Andrastian is a raging lunatic." Alistair huffed._

_"I would hardly think you are the epitome of what a shining example of your religion looks like." Morrigan said off-handedly._

"I don't go around claiming to exact an Exalted March on everyone, no." She shook her head as she stared at the mug in her hands, "There are only three circles, right?" She looked up at Dorian for a moment, hoping he would shed light on the situation.

"Active ones, yes. They're magnificent- when they're not being left to ruin." Dorian grumbled, crossing his arms across his chest like a pouting child, "There's no excuse for it. Circles here are a place of learning, to hone your gifts and expand your knowledge, and they're being left to rot."

It was here that he stopped his ranting and ravings. He was doing something about it- not just wishing anymore- he was _doing_ something. He only wished his father were here to see it. Even though if his father were here, it might have been more difficult for Dorian to form the Lucerni. But he couldn't turn back time, he had to continue. Tevinter _had_ to change.

"It's good to care so much." Elanda nodded, bringing the glass to her lips.

"Caring is the only way things would change."

"Couldn't agree more." Elanda emptied the glass and corked the bottle, "I want to look around the market. Any information we could've gathered is gone now."

"You came here to... Gather information?"

"Aye? Alcohol can loosen even the tightest lips." Elanda put the bottle underneath her arm as she stood up, "It's how I survived for quite a while."

_"I do my best." Zevran chuckled._

"But there's always more than one way to get information." Elanda smirked, "Let's go get those candied dates."

* * *

 

The market was certainly a sight to behold. Elanda could smell the Nocen Ocean as it swept into Qarinus and it made her lean against the building they were beside.

"Something on your mind?" Dorian asked.

"Home." She responded, "I'm sure I don't need to tell you what being homesick feels like."

Dorian smiled understandingly; he did know. But he also knew that the homesickness he felt was nothing in comparison to what the Warden was experiencing.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Dorian gave a slight smile. It was a chance to possibly get to know her better. She had been so guarded since she had been rescued. But so had he when he first went to the Inquisition- he couldn't blame her.

She frowned as her grey eyes nearly became silver in the light of the afternoon sun. She looked as if she was having an internal debate, as if she was listening to other people speak, "No." She said after a long and silent moment.

Dorian nodded and followed her gaze outwards, on very clear afternoons and if he had a spyglass- one could nearly see the island of Seheron, but today was not quite the clearest of afternoons and he had no spyglass.

"I was born on the coast line of Ferelden, it was warm and you could smell the ocean breeze, much like you can here." She spoke softly, "I haven't seen my family's home since it came into my brothers hands... I've been gone for quite a long time." She added with a sigh, "And I barely remember how to act human around others." She turned her head away from the view, now looking at Dorian, "Thank you."

"You'll find the cure." Dorian nodded, "You'll be able to go home soon."

She let out a quiet bitter chuckle, "I appreciate the sentiment." But she doubted it.

"If there's anyone that can find the cure for the Wardens," He put a hand on her shoulder, "It would be you."

_"Isn't he sweet?" Leliana cooed._

_"He's right you know." Alistair smiled, "You're the Hero of Ferelden. You can do anything. I've seen it."_

"I can't do it by myself." She looked into Dorian's green eyes with a heavy sigh and looked away, "So about those candied dates?"

Dorian could tell she wanted to change the subject, so he let her. And at the mention of candied dates a grin grew on his face and he made a hand motion, "Right this way."

Soon enough they had quite the bag of candied dates in each of their hands. Elanda turned over the first one in her fingers, looking at the fruit for a moment as Dorian chuckled and popped the first one in his mouth. Her red eyebrows furrowed as she followed his example, the brown sugar and honey instantly hitting her tongue before the juice of the fruit did, mixing together on her tongue- a hum of approval coming from her throat.

"I missed these the most while I was in the South." Dorian chirped after finishing the first one, and going to have a second, "Varric and I never settled that debt." He chuckled popping the second one.

"Varric? Varric Tethras?" Elanda asked with a raised eyebrow.

Dorian nodded, but paused to finish the date, "The one and only. Not the only dwarf I ever met, but probably the most friendly."

"Most surface dwarfs are." Elanda chuckled, "Get the ones who still have their Stone Sense and they come up here and think they're going to fall into the sky." She chuckled.

_"Warden, that's not funny." Oghren huffed._

_Leliana giggled, "It is a little funny."_

_"Just look at it-" Alistair marveled, "All big, and bright, and endless...."_

_"Blasted nug-humpers."_

"They don't really believe that, do they?" Dorian nearly laughed out loud and Elanda nodded as she looked up at the bright and blue sky, dotted with clouds.

"I don't think I could make that up, if I wanted to." Elanda chuckled, now looking back to Dorian with a shrug, "I almost felt bad for him. I can't imagine it was easy, especially on his most drunk days."

_"Speaking of drink, Warden." Ogrhen chuckled, "That wine was pretty tasty."_

She took the bottle from underneath her arm and glanced at it for a moment, "But then on that point it's hard to stay sane even when you're sober."

Dorian's eyebrows furrowed at her tone she was using now, and he knew the feeling. To have that itch beneath the skin, mouth go dry- he had struggled with his own demons for so long, and it wasn't until the Inquisitor and the Iron Bull helped him through his addiction. Looking at Elanda he began to see the mental toll that being alone had taken on her.

"That's not your place!" Someone shouted and the next thing she saw was a man rudely pushing another into the dirty street and Elanda instantly shoved the wine bottle in his hands, as well as her bag of dates.

"You can't just-"

_"Always have to save people who can't save themselves?" Morrigan chided with a sigh, "Very well. I'm sure the taint in your blood will leave once you've done enough kind gestures for the people of Thedas."_

_"Why are you even still here?" Alistair spat, "Honestly, if you find it so difficult to stay, why don't you just leave? You did it once before."_

Elanda felt that one and it tugged on her heart, making her swallow thickly as she ran to help the other off the street, she offered her hand and a soft smile, "Here let me help you-"

She was pushed down with more force that she barely had time to catch her fall and she clenched her teeth with a groan as she felt the stone of the road break the skin on her palms.

There was harsh laughter as she picked herself off the ground.

_"Usually I am all for instant karma," Zevran spoke, "But it may not be a good idea here."_

_"Crush them." Shale spoke clearly irritated._

_"Show those Tevinter bastards not to mess with a Warden." Oghren cheered on._

She was out numbered, by the looks of it. Three of them, all children of Magisters. Though she could only assume they were powerful in their magical abilities.

"I've seen Southern dogs act with more politeness." Dorian began to speak, walking up with his staff in one hand while he had all of their stuff underneath one arm.

Elanda scoffed, "That's because dogs don't grow up with compensation issues." She brushed herself off, after helping up the man from the street, "Are you alright?"

He nodded meekly and Elanda looked him over, he was dirty, and his hands were slightly skinned, but he was alright, he was a bit skinny, but Elanda could tell he had snuck food away if not for himself then for others, "Where do you live?"

He didn't speak, which only meant one thing, the obnoxious one was this man's 'Master' and Elanda frowned, "Not anymore, okay?"

"Look bitch, you can't just-"

"I hereby invoke the Right of Conscription." Elanda smirked, "Which means, I can take whomever I wish."

_"Does that even work here?" Alistair wondered._

"You- you're no Warden!" The boy growled and she could hear the fire crackle in the air.

_"I guess it does."_

_"Not a Warden?" Oghren growled, "The only thing you're missing is a damned griffon!"_

Elanda let go of the man and looked at him calmly, "I will be at the Pavus estate momentarily. When I arrive we will have work to do."

"Thank you, Warden!" The man nearly sobbed as he ran off and Elanda turned around calmly.

"So how does this work, exactly? We try to kill each other now in the streets? Is it just you, or am I going to have to fight all of your friends because you're too cowardly to come at me yourself?" Elanda crossed her arms, she wished she had her shield, but she would make due.

"Why don't we do this like civilized people, hm? Do this tomorrow?"

"Not a chance, Dorian." The boy glowered and she could see the fire becoming more intense in his palm.

Elanda blinked calmly at him, "I think it's because he thinks I need my armor to beat him."

Dorian sighed, "Just try to not kill him."

"Giving me a limitation?" Elanda grinned and cracked her knuckles, "Very well."

_"Not like you need your sword to be dangerous." Oghren chuckled._

She took off her sword and the belt and patiently waited for Dorian to adjust all of the stuff that he was carrying to hold her sword.

"It should be easy to kill you." The boy grinned.

Elanda smiled, "A lot of people have said that about me and obviously they've been wrong."

The boy summoned fire from his fingertips and she was able to roll out of the way. She was completely unburdened and her muscles were serving her well. She could feel the ground growing cold beneath her and she leapt from her spot, tackling one of his minions to the ground, her forehead purposefully and harshly colliding with the minions and he held his head while she grinned and took him out of the fight with a swift punch to the jaw.

The first burst of flame had drawn a crowd and there were now a small growing ring of people.  
  
And they were clapping each with each spell and punch. It was hard to tell who the people were cheering for, though Dorian could see that some were eager to see the Ferelden underdog triumph over the Tevinter upstarts.

She grabbed the boy's staff and grinned, she had a weapon now. Though she didn't intend to use it for its original purpose. She felt the weight that the end of the staff had and a chuckle came through her lips before she stood up, hands on her hips. "That's one out of three, boys. Either give it your all or give up."

_"Well." Alistair, "I'm not quite sure if I should be scared or-"_

_"It's okay to be a bit of both, I assure you." Zevran chuckled._

When there was no movement Elanda held the staff by the end and swung. She was never good at wielding a two handed weapon, but now? It was an impromptu weapon, but that didn't stop the elation of joy when it connected with the second boys stomach who was mid-spell and the staff snapped from the force.

And she instantly discarded it, dodging a cone of fire just a tad too late. It singed her blue tunic, but she kept dodging as the boy turned, all she had to do was keep dodging until his mana ran out.

There was a few closer calls, but she was instantly on him when the flames sputtered out and he instantly dropped his staff going for the knife at his back.

With a smooth motion Elanda grabbed his wrist and forced him to the ground, shoving his face right into a puddle of mud.

"If you want to kill me?" She growled, throwing the dagger out of his hands, "You best get in line."


	7. On Wings of Death

Maevaris looked up at the duo who walked in and her expression was concerned before it was amused at the slightly singed look of Elanda's tunic, "I see the two of you had an... Interesting time out."

Dorian laughed and Elanda smugly popped yet another date in her mouth, "That's putting it mildly."

"I can imagine. There was a young man who came through here not half an hour ago quite breathless saying that a Warden had sent him."

"Ah. Must be my Conscript." Elanda shrugged, "Where is he now?"

"Asleep." Maevaris stood, "It looked like the poor man hadn't slept in years."

Elanda nodded, "Good. Because I've got some news for him when he wakes up." She sat her bag of dates down on the table as she sat down, Dorian following her example, even as Maevaris continued to stand with a single blonde eyebrow arched.

"And what news would that be?"

But before Elanda had a chance to respond the closest door opened, revealing a glowering magister with ashen blonde hair in dual buns resting just at the base of her skull, burning hazel eyes meeting Elanda's calm silver hues.

"Warden." Calpernia clenched her teeth and Elanda instantly stood, pulling her sword with one smooth motion.

"I was hoping we'd get the chance to meet." Elanda's muscles tensed, "Did you think the purchasing of slaves would go unnoticed?"

"I see we're off to a wrong foot here." Dorian tried to intervene, "Perhaps we could-"

" _You invoked the Right of Conscription_?" Calpernia took a deliberate step forward, she was not backing down, " _How dare you invoke slavery-_ "

"Coming from a woman who was buying slaves?" Elanda took a step back from the table, and opened her mouth to spit verbal abuse at the Magister in question, but stopped.

_"There's more to this than we know, Elanda." Leliana's soothing voice broke out in her head, "Let the woman speak."_

Elanda growled, but Leliana was right. Dorian was tense, Maevaris looked ready to cast a spell on either of them.

"Er, right..." Dorian awkwardly broke the silence, "Warden, this is Calpernia." He introduced the two of them, "Calpernia, this is Elanda Cousland."

But it didn't seem to do much good. Even if Elanda had backed down from the initial fight. Calpernia was with the Lucerni. There had to be more than her just buying slaves just because she _could_. What was she doing with them?

_"Ah, the important question." Zevran nodded in her head, "Perhaps we will figure this out, no?"_

"I know who she is." Calpernia growled, and Elanda's grip on her sword tightened, "I buy slaves to free them, Warden. Not to put them back under the thumb of of others."

Elanda's shoulders tensed and she looked to Dorian who nodded, "That's how she has her spy network... Well, technically the Lucerni's spy network."

A hum of thought came from Elanda's throat as the grip on her sword loosened and she put it back within its sheath. But wasn't loyalty just another form of slavery? Just the more _optional_ sort? It was another thought that Elanda didn't voice.

"Then we're on the same side." Elanda crossed her arms across her chest.

Calpernia's hazel eyes narrowed, "I quite doubt it. My goals are noble, but your Conscription puts a different sort of slavery on another. It's just a veil of freedom-"

"You don't want to go down this road with me, Calpernia." Elanda warned, "I had no intention of putting the man through the Joining."

"No?" Dorian raised an eyebrow in her direction and if Maevaris was surprised, she didn't show it.

"In Ferelden there is a group created by The Hero of Ferelden called the Silverite Talons." She gave a sigh and a shrug, "From what I understand, it's a small minute man army." Elanda wore a remorseful smile, "They have a far better life expectancy then Wardens."

Elanda quickly discarded her quickly darkening thoughts, "He'd be able to be free and earn a wage that's well above the minimum to survive. If he doesn't have any skills, they would try to find what he enjoys."

Calpernia glanced at Elanda for a moment before relaxing her form, "It seems we are on the same side after all." She agreed with a nod and Elanda held out a hand for a handshake.

"Truce?"

Calpernia took Elanda's hand and gave it a firm shake before looking at Maevaris, "I assume Aria has left already."

Maevaris nodded, "She left not too long ago. But not before letting us know to get our wardrobes ready. Apparently the magisterium has a few announcements they would like the other Magisters to hear."

With that said, Calpernia gave a sigh and left back to her office, "Send for me when it is my fitting."

"A party?" Dorian nearly sounded giddy, "This should be exciting."

Maevaris chuckled, "If the Warden is to be our guest, she's also going to need to see my tailor."

_"Didn't we want to avoid this exact thing?" Alistair groaned._

"My armour should suffice." Elanda offered, more from her own discomfort than anything else.

"If you were to show up in your armour it would tell the Magisterium that Wardens have gotten involved with our politics. The last thing we need is the entire Magisterium thinking that Wardens are going to invade our politics as they have Ferelden's." Maevaris chuckled.

That stung more than Elanda wanted to say. She had done her best during the blight. Yes, the Grey Warden's purpose isn't political, but Anora wasn't any more fit to rule than her father and Elanda saw that she was de-throned. Alistair was Ferelden's _true_ king and Alistair had asked Elanda to marry him. She hadn't intended to become Queen, but being next to Alistair had made her a very happy woman.

Then she left.

But there came a thought that her silence about it might tip them off, and she had to say something, "I see your point." 

"Is your tailor here?" Dorian spoke with a raised eyebrow.

"Naturally. I sent for him as soon as I heard. And of course, we're going to be the last ones invited." Maevaris chuckled, followed by a chuckle from Dorian who agreed.

"If they invite us at all." Dorian joked, "But then what would they do without us?"

"Besides, now that the tunic had a slightly added flare," Maevaris smirked at her word choice, "Perhaps it's time to outfit you with something that will allow you to blend in more fluidly with the rest of Tevinter society. But you have had an exciting day." Maevaris thought outloud as she stroked her jaw, "I'll set your appointment for tomorrow." She decided and Elanda took a step back and her back stiffened to make a retort, she hadn't been treated like this since Highever, and it wasn't about to start again.

_"Warden." Wynne warned, "When in Tevinter do as the Tevinter do."_

"I need to go to the Carastese Circle." Elanda spoke with a frown, "This is not my fight and my quest is far more important than some grand Magister Ball." 

"Then it will have to wait until your fitting is finished." Maevaris frowned, "Warden, whether or not you wanted it to happen or not, you are in this fight with us now."

Elanda frowned, but couldn't argue. Especially after her fight with the three mages in the middle of the town square. She had been a decent human being and had gotten herself in the middle of what could become a civil war in Tevinter. Patriotism to both extremes. The faster she could get out of Tevinter, the better. One civil war was enough for a lifetime. 

"For now." Elanda spoke lowly, suddenly tired at the prospect of being in another civil war. If she only knew Tevinter better, she could travel like she used to, but Dorian had information and he was the only one willing to answer her questions.

"I've taken the liberty and put some more clothes in your room. I hope they fit." Maevaris spoke softly, as if she could see the weariness in Elanda's grey eyes.

The weariness didn't stop Elanda from straightening her spine and giving a thankful nod to Maevaris. It wasn't something she had to do, of course, but Maevaris was being kind enough to give her clean clothes, a relatively safe place to sleep, and food in her stomach.

None of which would go unnoticed when the time came.

"We'll go to the circle the day after." Dorian nodded, "Until then, follow me. I'm going to show you to our library."

And so Elanda followed him to the library, not as big as she might have expected, but it was still quite the sight. Dragons expertly carved into the old wood, she could appreciate the craftsmanship that went into the bookshelves themselves.

"I hope you find what you're looking for." Dorian spoke softly, as if talking too loud would break the air in the room, "I can't imagine we would have books that the Wardens don't when concerning Old Gods or even the blights."

"You never know." Elanda shrugged, "My father always said there were three sides to a story: Yours, mine, and the truth." Her eyes were downcast as she picked up a book in her hand. It was hard to believe her family- save Fergus had been dead for nearly 15 years.

Dorian offered a hand on her shoulder, his father had been assassinated just recently, but he could see the old pain, the rage, the loss was still there. It had become a part of her, and he vaguely wondered if she had ever grieved properly.

"Thank you, Dorian." She held up the book slightly, "I'll just take this one for now and see what I can gather."

"It's open to you any time you'd like." Dorian smiled as they walked out, "The wine is next to your candied dates, by the way." He added, "Just don't drink yourself into a stupor without me."

Elanda playfully scoffed, "Wouldn't dream of it."

And they parted for the evening, Elanda had the bottle of wine, the book, and the bag of candied dates in her hand as she walked into the room closing the door.

Once the door clicks into place there's something about the room that doesn't feel right. Everything was where she left it, but she can't help but get the feeling that there is someone else in the room. There's not many places for an assassin to hide, but who would put an assassin on her? She'd only been in the city for what, two days?

Granted, a lot had happened in two days.

"It seems someone wants you eliminated." Zevran chuckled, interrupting her mental silence.

She rolled her eyes as she put down the things in her hands on the small table. The trick with assassins, she learned, is to notice, but pretend like she wasn't noticing. But she had to take everything into account, the air of the room shifted and she forced herself to take careful soft breaths though her nose.

Leather, she also learned has an interesting smell. Generally all leather smells the same, with just a touch of where and how it was treated. Ferelden leather, was pretty basic in treatment, Orlais always had an air of perfume, Nevarran leather smelled slightly of stale inscence, for the Free Marches there was something different depending on the city, Rivain leather smelled of spices, Tevene leather carried the scent of magic with it, and Anderfels leather smelled like desperation.

Antivan leather, though. Antivan leather was different. It smelled of wine, and exuberance. A special kind of... Flamboyance. That's the way most Antivan leather smelled. Sometimes it varied from wine to coffee, and if one could put a scent on an Antivan whore-house, some smelled like that too.

If she paid attention she could smell the exuberance past the stillness of the air in the room. A Crow then?

Elanda picked up the book that she had placed on the table and threw it in the only place she would think an assassin could hide in the room; a dark corner just behind the door. A figure quickly moved, the book hitting the wall, and Elanda drew her steel.

Relatively safe indeed...

Daggers clashed with her sword as she held it flatly against her palm, eyes darting from the daggers to the crow mask on the assassin's face.

They went to move at the same time, the assassin dodged out of the way from the hit that she would've delivered with her elbow, but now that the pressure was off her sword, she could grip it with both hands.

In almost a flash the assassin was back on her, and she could see that the daggers had been sharpened recently. Well at least they would be kind enough to kill her with sharp daggers, allowing for a quick death rather than slowly bleeding out because of a blunt blade.

A kick to the stomach came swiftly from Elanda to the assassin and she took his momentary groan and pounced on him, her sword dropping to the ground with a loud clatter as she pinned him down, his own daggers clattering not far from his own hands.

"You're not the first Crow to come after me." Elanda growled.

"The funny thing about that is," The Crow chuckled, causing Elanda's eyes to widen and rip off the mask, throwing it to the side once she saw the familiar face that matched the voice, "Technically, _I am_ the first Crow to come after you."

Dorian and Maevaris were quick to open the door, staves at the ready and glowing, "Fasta vass, are you alright?"

Elanda was quick to turn around, "Hold!" She put a flat palm out to stop them, "He's friendly."

Both of the magister's eyebrows furrowed but when they saw that the Crow in question was deciding to keep down they nodded, "Very well..." Dorian looked over the man for a moment, "Just... Do let us know the next time you decide to have an assassin come into the house."

"You surround yourself with quite the group these days." Zevran quipped.

Elanda looked between Dorian, Maevaris and then back at Zevran, "Yes, well," she was quick to get off of him, "No stranger than old times?" She offered her hand to help him up and the elf grinned, taking it, letting her easily lift him up.

"Oh that is certain." Zevran smiled, "Oh, but I have been so rude." He grinned, taking a lavish bow before the two Magisters, "I am Zevran Arainai. Previously of the Antivan Crows."

"Vishante kiffas." Dorian murmured, "So not only are you an assassin, but an Antivan Crow?"

"Previously." Zevran corrected, picking his daggers off the floor and putting them back in their proper place.

Elanda did the same with her sword.

"How is someone a previous Crow?" Dorian's eyebrows furrowed.

"A curious one, aren't you?" Zevran chuckled, this time kneeling to pick up his mask, "but not the right question in this current situation."

"And the proper question would be?"

Elanda took the bottle of wine from the table and sat onto the small seating couch, feeling the liquid slosh inside of the glass bottle.

_"Elanda-" Alistair went to argue against her drinking, as he always did._

_"Had a hell of a day, Warden. Bottoms up." but Oghren always encouraged her drinking._

Not that she gave in often- but she couldn't find any flaw with Oghren's logic.

So the uncorked the bottle with her fingers and took a sip of the wine, not bothering to cork the bottle. She knew she'd be taking sips out of it regularly.

"Did your contractor pay you for silence this go around?" Elanda asked placing the bottle between her legs and looking up at him a wry grin setting on her face.

Zevran grinned, "Oh how I've missed your instant wit, Warden." A moment of sentiment; one that Elanda shared with a twitch of a smile coming to her lips and a softening in her eyes before Zevran continued, "But no. However..." He chuckled mischievously, "Not that I particularly offered it for sale."

Elanda gave a short bark of laughter, "Didn't you say that before?"

Zevran grinned, "And your excellent memory has not faded either." But what he was more happy to hear is that the taint had not dulled her mind. She had changed since the blight, but if he were burdened with the same thing she was, could he say that it wouldn't be the same? But he could also see she was plagued by something else- and it wasn't just the drink in her hands.

She took a second swig and for a moment he could swear he spotted relief before the unknown plague returned. He was certainly not happy about this turn of events.

"But Warden you are most certainly correct. Ask what you will of me."

"The name of your contractor." Elanda demanded. She'd been through this go around with Zevran before, he didn't offer his silence to Loghain and it seemed that Zevran kept doing hidden favors by not offering his silence to his current contractor.

"Ah, she was a wily one. A magister," Zevran turned to Dorian and Maevaris, and Zevran chuckled, "You have suspicious on who it could be, no?"

Elanda frowned, it was no secret Aria held a distaste for Elanda. But to go this far as assassination? Aria must have thought Elanda threatened her rule- or something to that effect.

"Do you think she would have?" Dorian looked at Maevaris.

But Maevaris never took her eyes off of Zevran, still uneasy to have a Crow- even a previous crow in their midst, "I think she would do anything for her career and the Warden," Maevaris gestured to Elanda, "poses problems. Despite what Aria has said, she'd rather work with people she knows. She'll only meet with others if they can further her goal."

"Aria!" Zevran snapped his fingers with glee, "Aria Yvette Levine. Sadly a thorny woman, definitely lots of thorns there." The Antivan nodded.

"She'll be back tomorrow." Dorian surmised, "No doubt to see if her problem has been taken care of."

Elanda scoffed with another swig of wine, "I'd like to see the woman try. If she wants to kill me, she'd best get in line like everyone else."

"Well then it's a good thing Elanda is getting fitted." Maevaris chuckled, "But Zevran, if at some point during the evening if I could borrow you for a little talk?"

Zevran grinned at the woman, blinking his honey hues, "If that's what the lady wishes, I shall be most honored-"

"It's just to talk." Maevaris smirked and Zevran let out a dramatic sigh.

"Very well," he played well at sounding mockingly defeated, "But I would like to talk to a long time friend. She's been quite distant for a while."

Maevaris nodded and gently motioned Dorian out of the room.

"Give them space, Dorian." Maevaris smiled, "I'm sure all will be made clear soon enough."

To spite having not a lot of information on the Warden, they had something they didn't have before. A previous connection. Someone she knew before she stumbled upon them.

A layer of her lie was about to come off. It was only a matter of time before they came down to who she really was- and maybe for the first time in Maevaris' life she wasn't certain if she wanted to know. It could change everything for good or ill.

It was just a matter of time.


	8. To Their Peace of Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two months, guys? Can you believe it? I want to thank those of you who have given me kudos, and for my precious commentators.

With the Magisters out of the room and eyes no longer prying, Zevran found himself relieved that he could drop at least a part of his act. This was his friend, he had left the Crows for her, betrayed them, he had his life because of her. Zevran owed this Warden his life, and even though she told him that he could live his life how he chose- he would always feel like he will never repay her enough.

She wasn't lifeless, but Zevran could see the toll that the search was taking on her body. Her figure that was once gently padded with baby fat was gone, her body more lean and muscular from training and stress. Her once mischievous silver hues now clouded with a storm of weariness and loneliness. She was tired, evident by the way her eyes were sunken in. She was still beautiful by every breath of the word- but she was crumbling on the inside.

"Zevran." Elanda's tone was warning, even with her eyes now closed, hand clasped around the neck of the bottle as it touched her lips again, "You can stop doing that thing."

His golden eyebrows furrowed and he leaned down to take the bottle from her hands, "If I can stop doing 'that thing' as you so eloquently put it, then you can stop doing this." Her hands held fast on the bottle and he frowned further, "My dear what would Alistair say if he saw you like this, hm?" It got just the reaction he was looking for as she loosened up on the bottle allowing him to smoothly take it from her hands and cork it, the smell of wine fragranting the air for a moment longer before disappearing entirely.

Elanda sighed, as if getting a chiding from the man himself, her silver eyes downcast as her elbows rested on her knees as she leaned forward looking at her hands, "He'd be disappointed."

Zevran have a click of his tongue, "I don't believe disappointed is the correct wording." He offered a soft smile in consolation when she looked up at him, "I think it would be more of he wishes he could be here."

Elanda allowed herself a chuckle, "You're right... It would be that way." She let out a heavy sigh, "But I can't let him see me like this... I can't let anyone see me like this."

Zevran sat next to her on the small couch, "And yet here I am." He gave a small half smile, "And I see nothing wrong with you."

A small harsh laugh came from Elanda's lips and Zevran didn't like the sound at all. He remembered a sweet melodious laugh that was playful, sweet and mischievous. This harsh laugh graded on him. He vowed he would do his best to bring Elanda back and somehow push back the tired Warden he saw before him.

"Then clearly you haven't been paying attention."

* * *

 

There was talking involved, lots of talking- adventures mostly, but Zevran had clearly got the scent that Elanda was telling all to the Magisters. Not that he blamed her, of course. She would already be hunted just for being herself in a land of slavers, but at least they'd be sloppy about it- but in killing a Queen? Oh no, they would have to be meticulous. Frame some other faction or country for her murder, after all it was no secret that Tevinter had its enemies, especially with the Qunari and Nevarrans, but to have Ferelden angry at them as well? Zevran knew that Alistair- the King would have to take political action; Declaring war and the Husband would see all of Tevinter burn.

But Zevran would also be penning a letter to the rugged King of Ferelden. Not that it would arrive speedily, but he was a man of his word- when he gave it. And before Zevran departed from Denerim, and from the service of the King, he promised Alistair that he would send word of her whereabouts, should he uncover them. There had been minor rumors for months, before everything stopped- then another small rumors before he did his own research on the Blights and followed her trail- information wise. First, she probably retraced her steps, going back through Ferelden and through the Korcari Wilds where the Fifth Blight was said to have started; he followed the rumors of a lone warden traveling through Antiva where the Fourth Blight began, he had lost it after that, tracing her back to Nevarra, where the Third Blight began, and he had gone to Weisshaupt in the Anderfels to try and catch her there, but after a month of the chaos there he had left, tracing his rumors of some of the higher ranking Crow members, but found a soft spot for Tevinter, only staying when he had jobs and heard whispers of a Warden appearance in Tevinter.

It would take at minimum a month for a dedicated scout to arrive from Minrathous to Denerim, so it would give Elanda at least two months to look for her cure before her husband arrived. Truly it would be just like old times, Aria would play the role of the swamp witch, the blonde Mage would play the role of the ever so wise healer (though Maevaris didn't strike Zevran as the healing type) and the other Mage would play the role of the bard turned lay-sister.

They lacked a drunken and crude dwarf, and a cold shouldered Qunari. Then it would be like old-times.

"And that's how I assassinated one of the Antivan Crow Talons."

Elanda gave a soft chuckle as she leaned back onto the seating couch and Zevran lifted her feet so they could rest on his lap, boots and all. It was a momentary comfort, something that 'normal' friends often did. But were either of them normal?

Not in the slightest. But they could pretend to be, at least for a little while.

"What of your singed tunic?" Zevran raised a golden eyebrow, "What is the tale behind that?"

Elanda took a moment to look at her tunic as if she had forgotten, and maybe she did, but when she looked at it and rubbed the burned cloth between her fingers she had to give a laugh, and to Zevran's ears it still didn't sound right; too harsh, too bitter, "Some Tevene boys thought they could pick a fight with me."

"You are a better liar then that, my dear." Zevran pointed out with a sly grin.

Elanda shrugged, "They had pushed a man into the street..." She sighed leaning back further onto the couch, "I couldn't just..."

"Such a big heart, my dear. It will get you in trouble here." He playfully chided, wagging a finger at her, "But if you didn't react, I would be concerned."

_"As would we." Alistair agreed._

Elanda allowed herself to smile softly, and Zevran looked over her carefully once more. She had always pushed herself. Always always pushed herself to her limits- and pushed her limits in the society she found herself in. He patted her boot and she looked up at him, "I best go talk with the Magister, Warden."

Elanda nodded and picked up her feet from his lap, "Zevran," She mumbled, his movements stopping to look at her, as her silver eyes downcast, "Would you have killed me?"

It was a moment of doubt, a moment of vulnerability she wouldn't show to anyone else- save anyone who had known her during the blight. He knelt next to her taking her calloused hands into his and he let his tan fingers rest in her palms.

"Hm." Zevran looked at her palm curiously for a moment, "Nope. I see a long life-line right here." Zevran smiled, his index finger tracing down her wrist.

"Palm-reader too?" She asked with a lightly comforted smile.

"You learn all sorts of tricks when you travel around Thedas. Rivain was quite the fun place to be." He stood up and straightened his black cloak, glancing to his mask on the table and deciding he didn't quite need it, "Best not keep the magister waiting."

Elanda nodded and propped herself back on this couch, not as relaxed as when he had joined her, but not completely tense. There was some personal comfort in that. He was no Alistair- but he might be able to provide a small comfort. After all he was a familiar face.

Which he knew that's what the Magisters were counting on. Elanda to lower her guard, for Zevran to do the same. But Zevran was only ever loyal to one person. And that was Elanda.

"Ah, such lovely people you have here in Tevinter." He grinned with a bow as he entered the study, "And how can I be of service?"

"Make yourself at home." Maevaris smirked as Zevran had already began to sit on yet another couch, "I just wanted to ask you a few questions. After all you said you had not offered your silence as payment."

"It is true." Zevran shrugged, unapologetically, "I did say that."

"I'll just skip the foreplay then." Maevaris chuckled, "I'm not going to ask you who she is, because I've contacted someone who might know of the Warden."

"Then I see I am useless to you. As well as Aria." Zevran almost sounded dismayed. Almost.

"Not quite." Maevaris leaned against the front of her desk, "Just keep the Warden safe... Shouldn't be too hard for a man of your talents." Maevaris strokes her strong jaw, "And loyalty." Maevaris turned around, "Keep her safe until I hear back from my contact, and I'll see you paid."

"How generous of you." Zevran smiled, "But that doesn't quite save me from Magister Aria's ire." He didn't care about being paid for the Warden's safety- they could've asked him to do it for free- if it was not already obvious she could keep herself safe, as the case was.

"We'll take care of her." Dorian chuckled, "Until then- Maker's breath, where are our manners," Dorian scolded himself bowing fluidly, "Dorian of house Pavus. Welcome to the Pavus estate."

"I am Maevaris Tilani." The stronge jawed blonde introduced herself.

"Such beauties in Tevinter... Who knew I would find myself so lucky?" Zevran grinned and put his hands on his knees, patting them once before standing, "If I may be so bold to ask, who is your Grey Warden contact?"

Maevaris smiled, "He's not so much a Grey Warden now... But if anyone would know who she is, it would be him."

Zevran gave a sly smile as he didn't quite understand, but he gathered they would soon find out. But it reminded him, "I would like to send a letter to an old friend, if I may."

Maevaris smiled, "Of course. I will see quill and ink sent to the Warden's room-"

"This is a letter best kept from her." Zevran chuckled.

Maevaris raised an eyebrow, "Keeping secrets are we?"

"We all have our secrets, Magister." He grinned wryly, "I will write the letter tomorrow... While the Warden is getting her... Fitting done. Why does she need to get fitted?"

"She'll be our guest in Minrathous." Maevaris crossed her arms across her chest, "And if we want her to blend in then we can't have her looking like the rest of the rabble."

Zevran chuckled, "Ah, a party then? I can't wait."

Zevran held a grin even after he left. After all who knew the Warden better then he did, in present company. Even at the slightest rumors of blood magic she would want to investigate and he, keeping her safe would have to follow- not that he minded of course. There was never a dull day when the Elanda was involved.

Zevran turned the door knob after a few soft knocks at the door and got a mumbled response from the other side. He opened the door to find Elanda at the desk on the opposite side of the room, with a book in front of her, and a candle lit next to her, "You shouldn't let assassins into your room so easily." He playfully chided, "One might think you have a death wish."

"Yes well..." She sounded distracted, "You might not want to go after Wardens, one might think the same of you."

Zevran chuckled, "Death is just a... Mistress who I will tease until she has had enough." It was a jest, of course, Elanda knew better. She knew what had happened, for the most part, what made him choose her as his target. She was his suicide mission- even after attempting multiple times before.

But she made him see a new light in life. He would never say such a thing, not to her, or anyone, but if he was honest (and he liked to think he was- at least with himself). Loyalty was just a minor part of a bigger emotion. But who could even say that they hadn't loved their friends at one point or another? The swamp witch loved Elanda like a sister, and perhaps that is what even caused her to flee. Wynne loved Elanda like a mother would her daughter, though Elanda never treated Wynne much like a mother, but Zevran was the last one to judge familial interaction. He knew not one of them wouldn't lay down their lives for the Warden... Just as she had risked for Ferelden and all of Thedas- and came out of it alive.

"Doing some light reading?"

A distracted hum emitted from her throat.

She was tireless, even with the distinctive bags underneath her eyes. Zevran watched her devour the page she was on for a moment before taking a step towards her, "Perhaps I might give a suggestion, hm?"

"I'm not tired." The lie came fast before she could think about it.

Before he could open his mouth to chide her, albeit playfully, she released an irritated sigh before closing the book with a heavy hand, "Makers breath." And blew out the candle at the desk.

He had a look of smug victory on his face, but when she turned in his direction, he could see once again that look again; the look that said that she might be listening to something, or someone- and with his hearing he could tell that there was nothing going on outside.

"Warden?"

She shook herself out of it, "It's nothing." Another lie.

This lie would take delicate steps to unravel. To expose it would require more precise measures, and currently that meant letting this lie slide past him. He was no fool, but there was nothing he could do about it- for the moment.

"Very well." He shrugged with a smile, "But to continue reading with an open mind at least get a few winks, yes?" He patted the couch, "I'll even sleep with you."

Elanda was in the middle of getting up when she let a small wry smile grow on her face, "Perhaps not then."

Zevran laughed, "I see where your mind went. What would your husband say?" A playful tease, of course. He respected the love that she had for Alistair. Minor flirtations, but they were mostly harmless.

Elanda rolled her silver hues but the smile lessened before she chuckled quietly as if a joke had been told. Fear ran through Zevran- he didn't know what the taint of the Wardens would do to them, he had heard Alistair talk about something called "The Calling" and that it was a sign that the Grey Warden's time on Thedas was nearly finished before they made their final trip into the Deep Roads.

Could it be she was going through her Calling? The thought nearly made him ill but he had to stay strong. He would pen his concerns to Alistair in the morning during Elanda's fitting- no. No. He couldn't do that. If it was time for her Calling, it would be safe to assume Alistair would be going through his- as he was made a Grey Warden just six months before Elanda. It soothed his feathers down somewhat. There was no reason to voice the concern.

They would want to go down together. He could not deny them that. But if Elanda had her way- no Grey Warden would have to go down again.

Zevran would do his best to see that her goal was achieved. He owed her at least that much.

She had taken off her boots, and laid her head on the arm of the couch, her long red hair done in a sloppy braid that hung over her shoulder. "We'll take shifts." She muttered, "Wake me up when it's my turn."

"You are aware... That we're in a house." Zevran playfully pointed out with a chuckle, "With fancy guards, even hosts with magic at their fingertips." 

"I don't trust anywhere, Zevran." She muttered back and it was clear to him that she wasn't going to go to sleep until he agreed to wake her up when it was her shift.

"Very well, Warden. I will wake you." He picked up her feet and placed them on his lap once again, getting a gentle hum of approval from the drowsy woman before giving her a pat on her calves which he found were harder than granite and vaguely wondered if she had muscle everywhere. She was deadly as she was beautiful. Alistair was a lucky man- and Zevran would tell him that again.

Until then. He watched the warrior's chest rise and fall with her steady breaths, breathing out when she did. It was comforting to be with someone else again. Someone who wasn't a mark or target. Someone who was a friend. Comforting to be with an old friend.

Perhaps there were moments when he could thank the Maker.


	9. For It Is Fleeting

Zevran didn't have to wait long- and he knew this. Being with her again was like muscle memory. It would only be three or four hours (five if the woman was lucky) in where she would start twitching her fingers, her eyebrows would furrow, she would let out rapid breaths before whimpering and jolting awake.

Once the first signs started to appear, much sooner than he had thought, he was at her side, one hand placed on her calloused warrior hands, squeezing gently before she jolted instantly awake at the contact.

Elanda sat up silently after a moment and looked at him with a still slightly smile, "Thank you."

That was another thing she did: she thanked people. These little words always managed to get a serene smile to land on his face because he was genuinely appreciated. It didn't matter if it was a barman giving drinks or a cook serving a meal, she never let them go unappreciated.

"You would do the same for me." He patted her hand before standing up. It was almost the middle of the night now, but he knew nothing would persuade Elanda to go back to sleep. The habits she had developed alone were not the healthiest.

But he had to try, "Would it not be better to try to sleep more? It has barely been an hour."

Elanda stood up, and walked over to the desk, taking a match from the match box and lighting it with a simple flick of her wrist, "I have far too much to do." And with that she set to lighting the wick of the candle at the desk and waving out the match with another flick of her wrist, "Feel free to do your own resting."

"And here I thought you'd never say so." He chuckled, taking off his own boots and laying on the couch, watching her devour the book page by page until sleep finally dragged him down.

It was when the soft rhythmic breathing caught her attention behind her that she looked to see if he was asleep- and he was.

_"You big softie." Leliana teased, "You **do** miss us."_

_"Sentiment will not save you, Warden. Knowledge, however might." Morrigan urged Elanda to keep reading._

And Elanda felt no reason to fight her, so she took her eyes from her sleeping friend and began to devour the book once more.

_"If you wished to hear old tales, kadan." Sten started not moments after she had read a bundle of pages forward, "Why didn't you just ask the Tevinter Magisters? Surely they would know their own ancient tales."_

_"Well, in every tale, there's always a kernel of truth." Leliana spoke with a lilt to her voice, "It's just a matter of picking out the kernel from the rest of it."_

Dawn was fast approaching, as Elanda could see the peaks of the sun come from the window and she felt her body slump from exhaustion, both mental and physical. But she could just push herself harder, after all, this fitting was going to take all bloody day.

_"You know. Maybe to stop the blights from happening we need to stop looking at the sodding Archdemons." Oghren spoke outloud, "Without Darkspawn to look for the Old Gods there can be no Blight. So what if we just eliminated all of the broodmothers?"_

Elanda thought about it only momentarily, but shook her head in refusal. There was a rumor that somewhere there were records of where the Archdemon prisons were, maybe that's why they were so focused on that. And besides, there were only two more Archdemons left, if they were going by Tevinter legend. Razikale and Lusacan. There were... Who knows how many broodmothers lingering...

Elanda stared blankly into the flame, remembering how she ordered the burning of the large corpse of the broodmother that they had found and killed. But not before meeting Hespith. Elanda remembered the smell first, the rotting flesh, the bile, the fluids that were splattered along the wall, blood was everywhere, large obscene black and pink growths sticking out bulbously from the stone like they were about to burst.

_First day they come and catch everyone._

Elanda saw the dwarf's eyes, dead and white, flickering around before staring straight at her. Her blotchy pale skin. The way she scratched at her arm, peeling apart the layers of skin with her blackening fingernails. Her dry lips nearly splitting open from the dehydration. The way her voice sounded as she opened her mouth to form the words to speak.

_Second day they beat us and eat some for meat._

The body parts strewn about, dragging and bloody hand prints decorating the floors and corners, desperately trying to hold on to the stone. Some of the blood still wet, red mixing with black, the mixture splattering the small hallway- made smaller by ever darkening growths.

_Third day-_

"Elanda!" Zevran looked at her with worried honey colored eyes, his blonde eyebrows and tanned face scrunching with concern, "Breathe," he instructed.

She didn't realize she wasn't breathing- or getting enough air. She tried to breathe, but it felt like something was pressed tightly around her chest.

"That's it." He raised a hand as if to motion to her to take in a breath and then let the hand down for her to let out the breath. Elanda followed his instruction, "Who's a fearsome warrior, hm? Our proud Ferelden Warden." He paused as a grin took his face, thinking of the perfect joke to make her smile, "Who occasionally smells of wet dog."

His jest was awarded with a shallow smile and a shallower laugh came from her throught, but her pale face looked like she had seen her worst nightmare. There were only a few people who had seen Elanda at her most fearful. It wasn't when they were fighting werewolves, or abominations, or ogres, or even the Archdemon.

The broodmother in the Deep Roads had been the thing that made all of Elanda's healthy flushed skin pale in a way that measured beyond dangerous. Zevran remembered one morning when he had found her retching from the fear. Thankfully they were not far out from Denerim and they all allowed Elanda to drink herself into a stupor, Alistair carrying her back to the room that they had rented still nursing her rather full wineskin.

She had conquered her fear with a few breaths and a hand on her shoulder, grounding her to reality. She nodded after a moment to indicate that she was alright, but neither of them moved to get up. Elanda felt light headed, and her hand was clenched tightly in a fist that took another moment to unclench.

"I need to kill something." She murmured in a low gravely tone as she quickly stood up and pushed past Zevran. Her adrenaline was still high, and the voices had stopped. She was grateful.

"Warden you can't just-"

"Watch me." She sat on the couch and began to tie the laces up on her boots making them secure on her calves, before doing the same to the other boot, "You can either join me, or you can explain to Maevaris and Dorian why I'm gone."

On the one hand, if he didn't go, he'd be shirking his new job from Maevaris. On the other hand, someone would have to tell someone where they went.

Zevran wasn't going to see Elanda miss her fitting after all.

It was as if the Maker heard his thoughts when there came a knock at the door.

"Warden?"

It was Dorian, and the Warden looked up at the door for a moment, debating on whether or not to answer. Zevran's eyes never looked away from her calculating gaze as he thought about the talk with Alistair he had talked about the two sides of Elanda. It wasn't until Alistair brought it up that Zevran began to see it and point out the differences for himself. It was Elanda who grieved, who was angered, the witty comebacks with no bite, who had charm, who loved. The Warden was calculating, put duty above all else. To put it simply, Elanda was the heart, and The Warden was the mind- in this moment it became quite clear about which part was looking for the cure.

After another knock, Elanda answered with a call and Dorian called through the door, "Are we decent?" It was a teasing question, one that Zevran couldn't help but grin and Elanda allowed him to open the door, looking at him from the couch as Zevran stood a nice two feet away from her with his arms crossed against his chest, "I see that was a silly question... Breakfast is being prepared, I was told Maevaris is having quite the cultural mix of foods."

A single red eyebrow raised from Elanda as she shared a glance with Zevran who shrugged, "I heard Wardens have quite the appetite." Dorian chuckled, and as if on queue Elanda felt her stomach growl.

"You can say that again." Zevran chuckled, "I remember that's what kept us looking for coin."

"Pardon me," Elanda said with a sarcastic roll of her eyes, "Starving was not something I wanted to happen... To _any_ of us."

"Yes well, you can be sure that starving won't happen here." Dorian smiled as he held open the door for Elanda and Zevran to walk through.

"And it is much appreciated." Zevran grinned.

Dorian guided Elanda and Zevran to the table, where a pale man with dark short hair sat near Maevaris at the end of the table, "And you're sure?"

The man nodded, "Magisters are being especially careful where they're buying their slaves. It mostly started happening along the borders, but ever since the Venatori have been active," The man took a long sigh and sat back in his chair, "the attacks have been getting closer and closer to the cities, yet no-one can seem to find the person responsible."

"And you've warned Calpernia?"

The man gave a smile, "Of course I've warned her of the danger... But you know how she is. The most I can do is try to protect her when she's on a mission, if I know where she's going."

_"Please, be careful, Elanda." Alistair took Elanda's face into his hands, his jaw clenched, "I can't... I don't want to be here while you're out there again." His voice shook with pain as he took her in another tight embrace, almost unable to let her go, "I want to protect you... But I-"_

_"I know, Alistair." She spoke, burying her head into the nook of his neck._

_"Just remember your promise." He whispered against her skin, "We're together at the end."_

_Elanda nodded and placed one of her hands on his cheek, "When I come back, I promise it will be for forever."_

_He brought her in for a hard, passionate kiss before having to roughly pull away, "Go, Elanda. Before I change my mind."_

_"I love you."_

_She couldn't allow herself to look back. Not when she exited Denerim Palace, not when she left the city and it was only when she left Ferelden that she allowed herself to look back. It had become so difficult to keep going, even when she passed the city of Halamshiral._

Even now it still wasn't easy.

"Warden," Maevaris stood and Elanda looked up, grey eyes storming with emotion and Maevaris extended a hand to the man next to her, "This is Marius."

"How good to see you again." Dorian smiled.

"Likewise." Marius nodded with a small smirk and bowed towards Elanda, who stood rigid, "Marius, mage-killer at your service."

Elanda raised a weary eyebrow at both Dorian and Maevarius before looking back at Marius, "Mage-killer? Is that some sort of... Templar?"

They knew what he did. But it still looked like she was the one out of the loop.

"In a manner of speaking." Dorian smirked, "It's more of-"

"Assassin training." Zevran got to the end of it after examining Marius since they entered the room, "Or at the very least survival."

"A Crow." Marius gave an understanding nod after looking him over briefly, "You keep strange friends, Warden."

Elanda smirked, "This coming from a Mage-killer who befriends mages?"

The room broke out into wry grins, it was ironic, very true, after all how could it not be? Everyone was befriending the very people who were at least hired to kill them- and here they were; Elanda, Maevaris and Dorian still alive.

"So what's going on? Not that we don't enjoy your company, of course." Dorian smiled pleasantly.

"Marius knows why the Magisterium contacted Aria. Seems not only do they want to hold a party, but they want to give out a general warning." Maevaris spoke, her fingers intertwining on top of the table.

"There's been a strange string of murders." Marius interjected, "Slavers, mostly."

"That's not uncommon." Elanda scoffed, earning another round of dry grins, "Slavers take people from their homes then put them on the market here." She shrugged as she lifted up a leg to sit on a chair, "Not exactly hard to see why someone would want a slaver dead."

"That's true, Warden." Maevaris nodded again, "But this is strange. Usually it's one or two every year, stabbings usually, but this..."

"Hole in their chest." Marius interjected, making a hand motion like he was grabbing something in an invisible person's chest, "It was as if someone reached inside and ripped someone's heart out." His hand pumped rhythmically, like he was holding a still beating heart in his hand, before dropping his hand completely, "It was the only thing missing, until we found it crushed on the ground, in a pool of blood." Marius looked at the Warden with a raised eyebrow, "Have you see anything like that?"

_"What an interesting ability." Morrigan sounded intrigued, "Perhaps if we could ally with such a person."_

_"Is this some type of magic?" Leliana questioned._

_"Not one I've heard of." Wynne answered with a sigh, "Tevinter is becoming an interesting place."_

_"We will have to keep an eye on Calpernia." Alistair's voice came through, "She's at risk... And as much as I don't like the woman, Aria is still an ally we should try to keep an eye on as well."_

Alistair wasn't wrong. Because when was he ever?

Elanda's eyebrows furrowed and she shook her head, "That would be a fine skill. But no. I can't say that I have. And this person is only killing slavers, you said?"

"Slavers and the occasional stray magister that goes too far." Marius shook his head, "But no one other then that. Bandits get cut down like anyone else, but Magisters and Slavers get their hearts ripped out."

"And you came to warn us did you? How nice of you." Dorian chuckled.

"Came here to warn Calpernia mostly. She's the only one who's really at risk here." Marius frowned, "But she's committed to freeing as many slaves as she can."

"As she should be." Elanda spoke up, laying her forearms on the table, Zevran sitting at the table next to her, Maevaris at one end and Elanda at the other. Zevran got the feeling that soon, the table would have a full crew. But only time would tell. He was curious what other sorts Elanda would gather at her side.

"No one should own another person." Elanda spoke lowly, "It should literally be as simple as treat others as you wanted to be treated."

"That's what we're trying to change." Dorian took a seat in the middle of the table, next to Marius, "But there's only so much we can do." Dorian sighed, "I don't want to have a repeat of what happened in Kirkwall, and I hope that we're above blowing up our Chantry."

Elanda was quite at the statement, but her mind began to turn, "Why not try to get someone with your goals as the Divine?" She spoke up with a raised eyebrow, "Justinia was able to, to spite all of her mage sympathizing views."

What Elanda didn't realize, is that the Imperial Chantry didn't have much of a say in Tevinter politics, so Maevaris assumed it was a Southern trait. The Archon held true power ad influence in Tevinter.

And there were four perfecty worthy candidates: Maevaris, Dorian, Aria, and Calpernia.

Elanda's mind had definitely set Maevaris' mind overturning the possibilities. Political steps would have to be taken to insure that one of them was put in the position of Archon.

However that's not to say that they couldn't find a similar soul within the Imperial Chantry and somehow move him around to become Imperial Divine. It would be a careful game of chess. 

Aria was certainly going to have her hands full. And maybe it would be enough work for her to focus on instead of killing their Warden ally.

"The South lost a good woman." Dorian frowned, "I wish I had met her. Leliana and Cassandra spoke often about her."

Elanda raised an eyebrow at the mention of Leliana's name and Zevran took a brief glance at the Warden, but when she was silent so was he. She was trying to keep her identity under wraps. If she revealed that she defeated the Archdemon of the Fifth Blight, her whole cover would come undone. She knew that her Tevinter hosts would use her Warden status as an added bonus, even when she told them she wasn't here for their 'movement'. But she also knew that her actions from the previous day had put her in it. She had no choice now, but to ride it out. But if they were going to use her, then she was going to use them. It was a mutual unspoken arrangement. They had information, and she had an unlimited movement.

Breakfast was served not long shortly after, but Elanda couldn't stand the formality of it all.

"How far is it to Carastes, Dorian?" She asked, looking at the mage in particular.

"A day if we don't stop-"

"We won't." Elanda spoke, shoving a few biscuits on her plate, before eating one, almost whole, "We leave as soon as these... Fittings are done."

"That won't be for a few days, Warden." Maevaris stated with a soft sigh, having already prepared herself for the glare that was given, "However, I've arranged for Dorian to go after you, and then Zevran after that."

Zevran knew why he was going of course. Maevaris had hired him to look after Elanda, and whether he was in his leathers or Tevinter silk, he would never leave Elanda's side. Besides, Elanda had no magical capabilities, and even with her Warden status, she would be easily forgotten- unless of course she came out and told them that she was the Queen and Hero of Ferelden.

Elanda seemed to understand why, not that she was happy about it, because it meant more waiting. But there was a promise within the library... That and a string of murders would cure her restlessness for the time being.

A moment of silence passed before anyone broke the silence.

"What's at Carastes?" Marius asked with a raised eyebrow, "Why would a Warden want to-"

"Dorian thinks that the Carastes circle might offer some information that I'm looking for. I pray that he's right."

"Information on what?" Marius questioned with a raised eyebrow.

Elanda stopped to wipe her mouth with the napkin before twirling another biscuit in her hand, "I'm seeking a cure."

"For yourself?"

"No." She answered curtly, and Zevran bristled. He was always led to believe that she would do it for them. Not just for him- this would be something he would note in his letter.

_"Elanda, you can't just think about me. You have to think about us." Alistair pleaded, "I can't lose you. You bloody well know that."_

"Then for who?"

_"Is it custom to be interrogated by every Tevinter you come across?" Sten mumbled in irritation._

Irritation that Elanda shared, "My husband." She spoke her tone clearly indicating that this conversation was quite over, solidifying it by piling up buttered pastries, roasted pork-links, deviled eggs, and absently grabbed an apple.

She pulled a dagger from her boot with her eyes shut, her motions clearly out of habit and began to effectively and quickly peel away the stem and skin. Once a piece of the apple was cut, she ate the slice off the edge of the dagger.

Zevran grinned after he realized what she was doing. It wasn't lady-like, or even table appropriate, but no one said anything, even when Elanda was cleaning her dagger with her napkin, the distinctive sounds softly breaking the silence.

Elanda was the last one to finish eating, as she ate nearly everything on the table. Everyone but Zevran seemed surprised at the amount of food she could pack down- Dorian couldn't help but feel bloated when he watched her chew down another peach turnover.

They quickly learned of the Grey Warden appetite.


	10. To Be A Light For Your People

Elanda wasn't fond of stripping down in front of strangers, but she wasn't going to be able to get out of this fitting, so it was better to get it over with as fast as possible.

She had several distinct scars across her body: werewolf claws on her left pelvis, a bite mark from a Mother Deepstalker on her right shoulder, beneath her right ribcage were three small lines from arrows, then on her left forearm was a large horizontal cut, her right bicep had a large scar from a tooth of the Archdemon, a burn scar on her left shoulder blade, and then finally a large slash across her back.

She stared at herself in the mirrors as she stood, holding her arms up so the tailor could get her measurements. Elanda's body was familiar, but she always seemed to look shocked when she looked to her face. She remembered looking into the mirror at Highever: her face still softly padded with baby fat, mischievous silver eyes glittering all the time, a smile always planted on her face. But now? Her once silver eyes seemed a dull grey, her cheeks had thinned out drastically, and smiles were a rare gift.

She could see the sleeplessness under her eyes, leaving a weary Warden. She could see the evidence of the toll her search had taken on her.

She began to wonder if this was a fruitless cause. The First Warden had been so busy with the political nonsense with Weisshaupt to be of little use, and Elanda had to work harder as a Ferelden Warden-Commander. There were some that believe she had shirked her duty when she didn't die when she slayed the Archdemon- and she kept Morrigan's ritual a secret. Then there were others who revered Elanda for the same reason. It's how Elanda bolstered the ranks of the Silver Talons, and used her fame to gently pad the numbers of the Ferelden Grey Wardens. Initiates given to her by chance and she gave them a family, just as she had found in Alistair- and some of her fellow wardens.

She began to think that the next time she saw Alistair would be in the Deep Roads. Unable to look him in the eye due to her failure.

She needed to keep going. So much time had already passed. At this point she thought having a family was pointless and would be happy with just living until they were old and grey.

Elanda clenched her jaw as she continued to stare herself down in the mirror.

"Fasta vass..." Dorian murmured coming through the doorway, glancing at Elanda's back, and then his eyes glanced to the mirror and saw the scars on her front side, "Warden life has _not_ been kind, I see."

She tore her gaze away from her reflection, "There were moments on both sides of the spectrum."

"Which ones will you tell me?" Dorian asked, sitting in a chair watching the tailor flatten the measuring tape along her muscled midsection.

"None for now." Elanda spoke plainly.

Dorian twirled the end of his mustache in idle thought. She was guarded, just like the previous Wardens that Dorian had met. He knew very little other than she was a married Warden who was born on the coast of Ferelden who was searching for the cure to the taint. Who had enough dealings with Zevran to deem a previous Crow as a friend. How curious indeed. He was starting to gather more and more information about her.

"What do you think of those murders?" Dorian asked, obviously trying to fill the silence, and Elanda appreciated it. The less she stared at herself or had time to think the better off she was.

"Other then they deserve it?" Elanda scoffed, "Slavers shouldn't be in business in the first place because there should be no slaves. It's a disgusting practice."

Dorian tensed in his seat, Tevinter needed to change, that was true. He wasn't blind to that. But he wasn't used to having to face that blood magic and outright assassinations were the only thing that the Lucerni was changing. He loved his homeland- but it needed drastic change.

"I had never given it any thought until I went to the South." Dorian admitted openly, "Here, a man can sell himself and is generally treated well while being able to support his family. But there are so many who aren't..."

"Indeed." Elanda nodded and looked down to the tailor after a moment, "What's your name?"

The tailor stopped for a moment as he looked up at her, an elderly man, no doubt thirty or forty years her senior. His blue eyes meeting with Elanda's and his expression softened, "Linios."

"When did you come to Tevinter?"

"I was a young boy," he calmly spoke as he continued taking Elanda's measurements, "I was coming home from my time in Orlais, apprenticing under another tailor."

"Your accent... It's Nevarran, yes?" Dorian questioned after wincing, knowing full well what Elanda was doing.

"It is." Linios nodded, "I've lived in Tevinter for almost forty years and the accent hasn't waned. Despite the attempts of several of my masters."

Elanda had made her point and Dorian didn't bring it up again.

"It wasn't until my last master's son, had introduced his whole house to Magister Tilani." Linios continued and Elanda raised a red eyebrow.

"Who was he?" Dorian asked softly.

"His name was Felix. He was a sick boy and wanted those of us in the Alexius household to have a _job_ \- not continue to live in slavery."

Dorian's light green eyes glanced down even when a smile grew on his face, "Felix was a good sort. Always was."

Linios nodded his head, "He was. We all showed up for his service when he went to the Maker's side." He sighed, "I think he knew what was going to happen, and he tried to get his fiancé to see that. Even when she fought so hard against her parents."

Elanda looked down at Linios for a moment, "Felix had a fiancé?"

"He did." Dorian sighed, "In Tevinter mages don't marry for love, choosing instead to arrange marriages to further bloodlines and protect the sanctity of magic. So when Felix's magic was... Close to nonexistent, he was quickly taken out of the pool of suitors. But she fought to keep him, even when her parents threatened to disown her entirely."

Elanda frowned, "Sounds like that's also something that needs to go."

"Couldn't agree more."

"Who was his fiancé?" Elanda asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Aria... Even now it's hard to imagine her having _loved_ anyone." Dorian twirled his mustache, "His death changed her completely." He frowned, "And it _wasn't_ for the better."

_"The poor dear." Leliana sighed, "Perhaps we should endeavor to be more kind, no?"_

_"And you wonder why I have repeated that love is a weakness." Morrigan scoffed, "She has done what she did to survive. The Tevinter court is not a safe place for anyone."_

_"Morrigan, I hardly think **you** are the one to take life lessons from."_

_"Better from me than a bard who finds romance at every corner."_

"It saddens me greatly that the Alexius estate is collecting dust." Linios stated with a small sigh, bringing Elanda out from the arguments of her mental companions, "It was quite a beautiful  
place."

"I just hope we can find what we're looking for." Dorian spoke quietly.

"You're going to the Alexius estate?"

"Aye." Elanda nodded, "Warden business."

Linios and Elanda were silent for the remainder of the fitting causing Dorian to leave, Linios pulling various fabrics from various drawers and putting them against her skin, making dismissive or affirmative sounds when it was appropriate. Soon comparing them with metals, various combinations.

Elanda staying still for the entirety.

* * *

 

"How is she doing?" Zevran asked emerging from the foyer with empty hands.

"She's quiet." Dorian's eyebrows furrowed, "And if anything concerns me it's a quiet warrior."

"Knew you were a smart one." Zevran chuckled, "But I believe my Warden needs me."

Dorian observed Zevran as he walked past, "Could you... Answer a question for me?"

"It depends on the question." He smirked, turning to face the Tevene.

"Did you give her the rose?"

Zevran laughed heartily, "No, no. Though if he gets his way he will be here. Just do me a single favor."

"It depends on the favor."

Zevran wore a wry smile, "Don't tell her. If you do, she surely will disappear."

"You fear losing her again?"

"Of course, don't you fear losing your friends?" Zevran shrugged and wore a remorseful smile, "We had already come so close before." He chuckled sadly, "I won't let that happen again."

Dorian frowned, "I'm not a fan of keeping secrets."

"So I've noticed. It's an odd trait when you live in a land like Tevinter."

"I suppose it is. However it has been what kept me sane for this long."

"Oh, but staying sane is _so_ boring." Zevran chuckled, "Perhaps it is for the best, no?"

"What do you mean?"

"Someone has to stay sane. It is quite the crazy world after all."

Dorian chuckled now, "You're not wrong."

"Of course not." Zevran began walking towards the room again, "Now if you don't mind, I'm going to go speak to my Warden."

And just like that, Zevran entered the room that had Elanda and Linios. To say he was concerned was an understatement. But they didn't need to quite that much. Not until he found out what was going on. Though for now he knew that her plan was going to go after whomever was killing slavers and magisters. It was too good of a mystery to pass up. Even he could see Elanda's itch to move.

After all she'd been standing still for hours.

"So where should we start, hm?" He asked with a grin as he entered the room.

"We'll go to the tavern again." Elanda stated matter of factly.

Zevran's golden eyes examined Elanda's scar again, and he could remember nearly all of them- all save for the large scar on her back. He didn't know the story behind that one- and he never asked. Scars had stories, and none of them pleasant.

"Calpernia is bound to go there again." Elanda continued after letting a moment of silence pass, "Once we follow her or the couriers back to the original slavers, hopefully we can get a glimpse of our mystery killer." Elanda nodded, "I want to shake his hand personally before I asses the danger."

"And if he kills you?" Zevran asked, raising a golden eyebrow, flipping a dagger absently in his hands.

"Then I die where I stand." She nodded, her grey eyes resolute, "Though I don't plan to die. Not yet. And certainly not here."

"You be sure to tell him that, hm?"

"I just might."

* * *

 

Elanda donned a large cloak and a not so burned tunic and waited until the house was asleep before leaving with Zevran right behind her.

"What do you hope to find?"

"If we can: the killer. But I just want to get a glimpse." Elanda answered, walking into the nearest and darkest alleyway and pulling up the hood on her cloak while Zevran did the same.

They walked to the end of the alleyway and watched people enter the Tavern, one that Elanda could now see the name of it: Dragon's Casque.

Elanda kept herself in the shadows of the alleyway, with Zevran right beside her. "Into the dragon's mouth?"

"No." She shook her head, her eyes watching the door, "Not yet. We're just watching for now. It's possible she's already inside, and if that's the case and we both go in there, then our cover  
will be over."

"Then why don't we go back to the Magister's estate and we'll come back in the morning?"

Elanda's grey eyes never strayed from the door as she juggled the suggestion in her head. It was a good idea. But she was already here- already out. "Or we could go in now."

"Elanda, didn't you just say-"

"You _can_ climb, right?" She asked after a moment.

Zevran turned his head at her, a golden eyebrow raised as if to question her question, and why it would matter- but when he saw her head motion to the building itself he could see by the way it was built that it would be easy to climb. As long as they could stay in darkness it would be easy to get both of them up there.

"Thankfully you're not wearing your heavy armor." He grinned, "But if we were to go, we should go now."

Elanda saw the opening and they both began to sprint to the back of the building, avoiding the lit parts of the streets of Qarinus.

Zevran gave a slight bow to Elanda, "Ladies first."

Elanda frowned as began to reach for a stone that gave her room to begin climbing, "Bow again, Zevran," she hoisted herself up, "And I'll jail you for High Treason."

"As soon as you get back to Denerim." He quipped, "Because I'm afraid _your_ rules don't apply _here_ , _Warden_." And he hoisted himself up.

Once Elanda was up on the roof she reached down to Zevran and once he had grabbed her forearm- which he noticed was more firm than the last time he saw her, she easily hoisted him up to a point where he could pull his lower body on the the roof.

_"Wow." Alistair breathed, "Look at all those stars."_

After Zevran had made it fully on the roof, Elanda did just that. She could see the stars so clearly, so brightly. Like little gems on the Maker's dark cloak.

"Admiring?" Zevran asked with a lilt to his voice.

"Yeah." She breathed in response, she could see the outlines of all the constellations, the easiest ones to spot to her eye being the Sword of Mercy, High Dragon, and Sacrifice. Elanda released a heavy sigh and went to reach for the bottle she usually would have along her belt- but when she found it missing, she had to silently chastise herself. Of course it wouldn't be with her, it was sitting at the Pavus estate. She'd have to mix the honey wine with it as soon as she was able.

But for now they had a Magister to watch out for.

"Look," Zevran's voice brought her from her thoughts as she followed his finger, seeing a door that lead to the roof, as well as a few tables, no doubt for the people who didn't want to deal with the rabble down below, "It seems we are in luck."

"So we are." She grinned, carefully walking along the angled roof before stepping on the flat wood next to the table, taking Zevran's hand and loosely holding it, as a just in case he slipped, though she knew better. This was _Zevran_ after all.

He could do anything.

Well. _Except_ pick locks.

Elanda nodded, making sure her hood covered her face, and gestured for Zevran to do the same thing before walking inside, the bustle of noise and low murmurs filling the building. Elanda had a good view from where they were standing, and could lean against the rail and see the entire tavern.

"Ah." Zevran said lowly, spotting Calpernia sitting in the middle of the tavern, "There she is, right where we can see her."

"It's almost like she knows." Elanda murmured, her eyes carefully looking over the rest of the patrons.

"She knows she's being watched." Zevran confirmed, "But we aren't the only ones."

Elanda listened as her grey eyes came across a familiar hodded figure. One that she had seen before. She would keep a closer eye on him. Last time she took her eyes off of him, he disappeared.

"Keep your eyes on Calpernia." She leaned on the railing casually, "I've got our possible killer."

"Very well. I will go talk to the barman about getting us something to wet our lips." Zevran sighed and began to walk away, "Though I could think of more fun ways to wet lips."

It was a good move. If they didn't want to be questioned, then a drink in their hands was a good idea. Elanda was then left by herself in the lowly lit corner where she stood.

_"He's definitely wearing armor." Alistair observed, "The pointing guantlets tell me his armor is from Tevinter."_

_"But look," Leliana butted in, "He's not wearing any shoes either."_

Elanda slightly tilted her head to examine the man, and sure enough, his black and silver gauntlets definitely held a Tevinter signature and he wasn't wearing any shoes. A former slave then? Dalish, perhaps? It was no surprise why an elf of all races would want to kill Magisters. But in Elanda's experience there was always more than one Dalish around. But when her eyes glanced around, the didn't see any elves or cloaked figures, save for Zevran who was walking back towards the stares with two mugs in hand.

The cloaked man, if he was an elf, was taking a giant risk in being in Tevinter, surely. Hence why he was killing Magisters no doubt. She was curious however, he was quite obviously a mage, as she knew no other talent save for magic that could rip a heart out of a man's chest. Blood magic, perhaps? If that was the case, this foe would have to be treated carefully.

Very carefully.


	11. Girded in Lyrium

Calpernia hadn't moved, despite the eyes she felt on her. She knew she was being watched, oh she fully well knew it wasn't paranoia.

And she knew she was being watched by the Slaver-Killer. But she wasn't going to stop buying slaves. No, she needed to buy them because she was buying their freedom.

It happened later this than she would like, but eventually there came a courier with papers in his hands- just as normal.

"Getting dangerous for you, isn't it?" The courier asked with a snarky smile as he made a hand motion for a drink before he sat.

"No more than for you." She kept it short, as always.

There was a small humph of agreement, and Calpernia wasted no time in taking the offered papers and read over them for a moment, "None of them are injured or branded?"

"Not a single one." This courier had done business with Calpernia once before, and had heard only stories about her treatment of couriers if her slaves were injured or branded. He hoped to keep it that way.

Her silence was taken as a good thing as she kept reading through. "Good. See that they are-"

"I can't." He interrupted her, leaning in.

She bristled, her hazel eyes looking over the edge of the papers, "What do you mean?"

"With the killer on the loose it's dangerous for all parties involved." The courier shrugged, "You wanna buy slaves, that's fine, but I won't die for them."

Her hazel eyes hardened, her shoulders tensed before she remembered what she was dealing with: a courier of a slaver. A middle man.

"You want them so badly, you get them yourself, ma'am."

She supposed it was understandable, not wanting to die for the job he was no doubt being paid handsomely to do. She looked him over for a moment, disdain clear in her eyes before going back to her papers, everything seemingly in order.

Except for the couriers delivering them to the Pavus estate.

"Very well." She placed down the papers back on the table, "Where are you located?"

* * *

 

"Camped just at the edge of the Arlathan Forest." Zevran smirked as his golden eyes read the lips of the courier.

Elanda didn't speak even when Zevran turned to her, "It seems we have our location."

"She's leaving tomorrow night." Elanda took a sip of the liquor that Zevran had managed to grab. It was horribly bitter, no doubt the cheapest stuff that was available. But she understood why Zevran had chose it; if he were to flash out their- Elanda caught herself, his coin, then it would give them away almost immediately, since Calpernia payed attention to her surroundings.

"Do you think our killer will go tonight?" Zevran asked, only to have Elanda shake her head after another sip of the bitter liquor.

"No. He'll want to have all of his targets in one place. Once their all dead, then he'll free the slaves."

"How do you know?"

"Because it's what I would do." Elanda placed the mug back onto the railing, keeping a firm grip on the handle of the mug.

Zevan chuckled, "Should I be worried about you moonlighting as a killer?"

Elanda barked out a laugh, "I don't have the patience for 'moonlighting'." She rolled her grey eyes, "I'd rather just behead them and be done with it."

"So beheading is your signature?" Zevran continued to tease as he playfully raised an eyebrow, "I will keep that in mind."

Elanda finished the alcohol with another solid motion of the mug, placing it on the table and adjusting the mask on her hood so it covered her mouth again, "Let's go. I want to be at the estate before she is."

"To prepare for your big day of slaying?" Zevran grinned, looking at the mug in his hand and only seeing it about half finished, not that he really enjoyed it of course, but to see Elanda finish her own mug so quickly made Zevran's worry bubble to the surface.

"I suppose so." Elanda knew blood would be spilled.

And that it would be by her hand.

* * *

 

Elanda and Zevran were well in the Estate before the sun rose. Not that Elanda was doing much sleeping of course. Her nose was too deep in the book she'd been reading about Dumat- of course nothing she didn't already know- and perhaps it was a lost cause, trying to find a cure for the Wardens.

_"All grown up and still playing the man."_

She growled, marking the page she was reading and slammed it closed. She grit her teeth together as she threw the book against the wall, covering her face with her hand, dragging it down before cupping her chin. The night couldn't come fast enough.

Hearing that... Man's voice in her head made her blood boil in her chest, the taste of familiar ash reigned in her mouth. Just as it had every time she remembered that bastard's face. It would be about this time that she would climb out of the royal bed, and into the room she had dedicated to her father. The Cousland sword, shield and armor. She shined it religiously on the nights that she heard his damn voice in her head.

And the worst thing was: she struggled to remember her father's face now.

But Rendon Howe's face? She remembered every dip of his face, his pointed chin, his ugly graying hair, the tuft of hair just beneath his thin frowning lips, the high arched eyebrows... She remembered every fucking detail.

And she hated it.

Her hand that rested on the table balled in a fist before reaching for the honey wine and began to uncork it.

"Sleepless night?" Zevran asked, coming through the door, picking up the thrown book as he passed it, "Perhaps you should treat our host's books with more care if you are to stay here." Another tease, and Elanda made a sound of agreement as she took a swig from the bottle.

She had put her walls up again- and for a moment, he wished he was Alistair. She would talk to him when she didn't even look in anyone's direction.

Because he made her.

Zevran placed the book on the small glass table as he walked forward, kneeling before her, his golden eyes meeting with her cloudy grey hues, "Do not be so harsh on yourself, Elanda. I will not have it in my presence."

Elanda's lips grew a sneer as she went to take another swig, but Zevran snatched it out of her hand, "Drinking is for victories and funerals, Warden." He shook the bottle disdainfully at her, "Drinking to drown your sorrows is a trait you will unlearn from the Dwarf."

_"Watch it, elf." Oghren growled._

"Now there's the smile made of sunlight." Zevran grew a smirk touching the bottom of her chin, tilting it up to look at him, "To fight a Slaver Slayer you will need your strength in your sword arm. Perhaps you should rest... Or should I bring you Antivan coffee when the time comes?"

Elanda rolled her grey eyes but did manage a smile, "Antivan coffee does work wonders."

"Then I will procure a cup in the morning." He patted her knee, "But for now. You will sleep." Zevran took the cork from her hands and put it back into the lid, "And this," He shakes the bottle, "Comes with me."

"I take orders from you now?" She teased with a frown.

"When it suits me." He grinned and sauntered out of her room without another word, closing the door behind him.

* * *

 

It had been several hours, Elanda had found a few hours of sleep before retrieving her armor, and after splashing her pale face with water, she began strapping on her armor, motions that she had perfected from traveling by herself for years. But maybe it was excitement that had helped her strap down quickly, she had something to do- a problem to solve... At least until she could finally begin their trek with Dorian to Carastese.

She had to finish this killer thing soon. She didn't like leaving loose ends... But Dorian was getting his fitting, and if she and Zevran could find the slaver killer tonight, then she could proceed with finding the cure.

"Are we ready to head out, dearest Warden?" Zevran grinned as he sauntered back into her room as she latched on the final buckle and slid on her helmet, shield already on her back and sword at her waist.

"That I am, Crow." She shared his grin, "That I am."

"Excellent. Because I bribed a stable boy for his silence."

Elanda chuckled, "Lead the way, Zevran. I will need your eyes."

"What would you do without me?" He grinned as he began to climb the window, urging her to follow, which she did. He only bribed the stable boy- not the rest of the castle hands.

She'd be drunk right now without him.

_"Not that being drunk is a bad thing, Warden." Ogrhen grumbled, "Don't let that elf tell you otherwise."_

_"It would impair your abilities, Warden." Wynne chastised, "unlike our Dwarven friend, you have never trained drunk. And if we have anything to say about it, you won't ever."_

Elanda smiled underneath her helmet, "Where indeed." She mused, following him quickly through the colorful but empty courtyard.

Getting to the stable was quick, thankfully and they were in and out before the sun set on the horizon. Which was good, because Maker help them, they would need the light.

* * *

 

The ride out was smooth enough, Elanda wore her shining Silverite armor, griffon displayed proudly on her breast plate, and with her helmet on, no one could discern man from woman.

Zevran rode in front, he knew Qarinus better then Elanda did, that she would admit. He also had the better eyesight, which would be more useful come time to actually track the slavers. But there was something else that was an unspoken benefit: it was starting to feel like old times.

"Now that we are quite alone, Warden." Zevran spoke, his serious tone making Elanda look at him as he slowed his own horse to keep in pace with hers, "What is going on with you? And do not lie. I can always tell."

Elanda frowned beneath her helmet and she thought about what she might say.

"He named his daughter after me." Elanda spoke softly, "He named his only daughter after me and he joined the Wardens because of me."

Zevran looked confused for a moment before nodding in understanding, "You're speaking of Ohgren."

Elanda nodded, "That very well may be the only child he has and..." She took a breath, gathering what emotion she had and swallowed it down, "He named her after..."

"The Queen of Ferelden, The Hero of Ferelden, killer of the Archdemon... Oghren named his little one after you." Zevran smiled, "She has quite the role model already."

She frowned. There were many honors she felt like she didn't deserve. Being named Queen, given the title of Warden-Commander, and having a child named after her. What right did she have to any of those things?

_"Well... As far a Queen goes..." Alistair spoke, "I love you and you're my wife. Didn't we go over this already?"_

Elanda's grey eyes looked forward and a small smile curve her face.

"But it's something you don't feel worthy of?" Zevran asked, turning his face towards her, Elanda's smile falling.

"No." She confirmed his question, though she knew she didn't need to, "Perhaps maybe I will be. But not now."

"You will just have to accept it." Zevran grinned and began to trot ahead just a little faster, "We are close, Warden. I can smell the forest."

Elanda was silent as she followed him, but soon found herself getting off her horse as Zevran did.

He looked at her and gave her a nod, drawing his weapons from his belt. Elanda didn't know what to expect, so she drew her own sword from her belt as silently as she could before pulling her shield from her back. They had reached the outskirts of the Arlathan forest, and it took a moment to realize that they were barely on the outskirts of Tevinter, nearly on the border of Antiva. Not that Elanda minded of course, but it could possibly spar a war with Antiva- if they were to find out, but... She knew how careful Tevinter was.

But not today.

Elanda looked at Zevran and he nodded again, giving a small signal and they went forward, tree by tree. She began to be able to smell the small campfire. They were certainly nearby, mumbling something that Elanda couldn't hear, and if Zevran could, the shadows of the forest prevented her from seeing his face.

"Wait." Zevran spoke softly, "We're approaching this the wrong way."

Elanda raised an eyebrow and he sheathed his daggers.

He made a motion for her to stay put and she went to argue, but she saw him step from behind the tree as his whole mannerism changed.

"Ah, friends!" He greeted with a wave, walking towards the slavers and their couriers.

Elanda couldn't go forward, not with her silverite armor blaring her obvious Grey Warden affiliation. But maybe that was the idea? The killer may not step forward at the sight of a Grey Warden. But at the same time, a Grey Warden Commander buying slaves in the hopes of bulking up the Grey Warden numbers? It was an idea that sickened her stomach, but if she was brought forward, it would be a cover that she would go with.

_"I'd sacrifice a lot more if I knew it would end the Blight."_

Daveth had said that once.

And now that Elanda had been through the Blight... It was a statement she could sympathize with; but would never go through with. So many had already died, and to her blade. She'd sacrifice herself before an innocent had to shed their blood for it.

"Who are you?" One of them asked, and Elanda heard the distinctive draw of a blade, but there was no other sound of any other movement.

"Let's not be hasty, my friends." Zevran spoke, and she could hear the grin in her voice, "I'm here on behalf of Magister Calpernia. I believed she had some... Merchandise for me to pick up?"

There was a moment of silence, "She usually comes herself."

"There's not usually a killer on the loose, hm?"

For a moment Elanda thought that they might outright attack Zevran and a moment of silence passed before she heard the sound of the drawn blade being put back into it's sheath. She was able to slightly relax now that her friend wasn't in immediate danger from the slavers.

"Come on then. I don't like it here."

Zevran smiled and began to walk forward, Elanda following a distance behind him.

They were deep into the forest, the small fire from before no longer visible in the thick forest, if dawn was approaching, she couldn't tell.

There was another bigger clearing, perfect for hiding a steel wagon full of slaves.

"What?" To Elanda's ears he sounded surprised, "Where did they go?"

Elanda's eyes narrowed as she curved her head to get a look, and she saw the light of the torch show a completely destroyed lock and no slaves. Someone had done the work for them and Elanda could only guess who it might have been.

"That is no concern of yours."

It was a new voice, but it was quickly followed by the scream of a slaver, and Elanda knew she had to act, so she quickly stepped from the tree she was hiding behind, shield up in caution. She looked at the slaver, hand sticking out from his chest, balled in a fist blood coating the pointed gauntlet. Her grey eyes widened in shock as it pulled out and the body quickly slumped to the ground, revealing the killer.

He was tall, that was certain. But he was no Dalish, evident by the glowing markings not only on his face and what seemed like the rest of his body. How could Elanda protect herself against something that could penetrate armor? As far as she knew, Silverite was only effective against Darkspawn. His white hair nearly matched the lyrium markings, a striking contrast against the black armor he wore.

"I give you one warning."

Elanda glanced at the new stranger, then to Zevran, who dared not take his eyes off the stranger either- but Elanda wanted all of them to walk away. But how was this an easy decision? She didn't want to fight on the slaver's side... But if they let him live, she didn't want rumors of a Grey Warden helping slavers to run rampant through Tevinter. But in the eyes of the killer, whatever name she gave him would already have a bad reputation. She would, in any case, tell him the truth; even if it didn't matter- and Elanda knew it wouldn't, not until he saw the truth with his own eyes.

"Very well." She nodded, and in a single stroke, gave a swift beheading to the slaver next to her, his body slumping to the ground.

"Now that that unpleasant business is dealt with." Zevran spoke after the body had fallen, Elanda looking at the killer as he reached for his blade, just as she suspected.

"I wanted to _talk_ to you." Elanda spoke before Zevran could open his mouth, " _Without_ violence between the three of us."

"I know what you came to do." The white haired elf, "But my statement is clear, run back to your masters, whilst you have the chance."

Elanda frowned, but stood her ground, "We don't belong to anyone, Warrior."

The white haired elf looked her over for a moment, "And yet you," He pointed to Zevran, "Mentioned a magister, _by name_." He growled, pulling the great sword from his back, "I won't be fooled. I gave you a warning and you have ignored it."

Elanda looked at Zevran, and shook her head, hoping her silent communication got across. His only reply was a smirk across his face as he brought the fabric around his neck above his nose. He knew what she meant. Zevran knew that Elanda saw this elf as another ally- if she could get him to see what she wanted to do. Zevran had seen her magical charismatic powers, but he knew this elf would prove a challenge.

He lunged forward to Zevran who dodged his attack and threw a small ceramic ball on the ground- releasing a small black cloud, the white haired elf held back coughs, but the smoke allowed Elanda to break through the cloud, ramming him with her round shield. His grip is steadfast as he held the blade flat against his hand and dug his feet into the dirt, resisting her momentum feet slightly dragging through the dirt.

With a loud groan, he put his own weight into his sword and pushed her back, attempting to knock the warden off her own feet. She gave her attacker very little leeway, but she needed to take a step back so she could take a swing at him with her shield.

He blocked her swing and took a step back, bringing his sword around like a spinning top, Elanda barely managed to block it, but the momentum of the swing caught her unprepared and she fell to her side with her shield arm ringing like the bells of a Chantry tower. He brought his sword down and she rolled to the side, only taking a glance to barely catch her reflection on the blade's surface.

She didn't want to kill him, but it was obvious he was aiming to kill her. She kicked him as hard as she could, making him stumble backwards with a grunt before lunging at her, his body glowing white before falling to his knees.

"We don't have much time." Zevran spoke, grabbing her arm and helping her up, "Grab your shield and let's go."

She had to agree. Whatever Zevran did, he saved her life. She had seen him rip through a man's chest like it was parchment. Not something she wanted to be on the receiving end of. She quickly grabbed her shield and ran as fast as she could.

She hopped on the horse after she sheathed her sword and put her shield on her back and rode hard with Zevran next to her. It wasn't until they had entered the city limits of Carastese that they dismounted the horses and let them take a break. Mostly Elanda didn't want to overburden the horse with her weight, and the horse seemed relieved.

"Perhaps they will have bananas. I heard from a merchant that they are both squishier and bendier than in the south."

Elanda's face broke out in a grin underneath her helmet, "Are you sure they were talking about the fruit?"

Zevran let out a hearty laugh, "Perhaps we will _both_ find out. Bananas are in fact good for your health, Warden."

It was Elanda's turn to laugh, but quieted down once the Pavus stables were in sight, and the stable hand sitting on a stool nervously, carving apple slices and putting them in a bucket.

"Oh good." He sighed with relief as he spotted the pair, "You're..." As they get closer, he can spot the blood on Elanda's sword and part of her armor, "Was there trouble?"

"Nothing we couldn't handle." Elanda spoke first, and rubbed down the horses snout before handing the reigns over to the stable hand, "See these horses are treated. We rode hard and deserve something for their efforts."

The stable hand nodded, "Magister Pavus was looking for you, Lady Warden." The man put Zevran's horse in a large area first before the horse Elanda was riding, "He said that he was 'offended' that you didn't come to speak to him during his fitting. Would've liked your company."

"Thank you. Hopefully his feathers didn't get too ruffled."

"Maevaris also told me to tell you, Ser Crow, that you are next on your fitting."

Zevran grinned and pulled his hood back down and took his mask off now that they were in friendly territory, "Won't that be fun?"

Elanda nodded and began making the trek back to her room, the door slightly ajar. She's not big on intruders, but before she steps through the door, Elanda draws her blade as quietly as she could and opens the door, hand on the wood and sword firmly in her silverite grip.

When the door fully opens, she sees Dorian looking up from a book, his expression slightly distressed before Elanda huffs with impatience.

"Note to self:," Alistair mumbled, "Never sneak up on Elanda."

"Not unless you have a sodding deathwish." Oghren agreed.

"Vishante-" Dorian had a hand to his chest, "You startled me. You're so... Quiet when you wish to be."

Elanda sheaths her sword and takes off her helmet, putting it on the table, "I was taught well." She murmured, "But if this was my other set, you would've heard me clunking from several kilometers away."

"Do most Grey Wardens have two sets of armor?" Dorian asked, book in hand, but looking in her direction with a raised eyebrow.

"Not really." She spoke, her tone indicating finality.

Dorian let the silence of that answer hang between them for a moment. What Grey Warden had two sets of armor? What made Elanda the special case? Or did she make herself the special case? What ever the answer was, it was clear to Dorian that she wasn't going to be answering any more questions about it. So instead he looked to her sword, which had seen some action, evident by the blood on the blade. He began to put the pieces together. She had left with Zevran, both the night before and this night. Elanda had been looking for something to do, and she had found that searching for the person responsible for killing slavers and couriers was worthy of her time.

Clearly she had found something.

"So who did you end?" He smirked, almost hoping for both ends of the spectrum. Killing a slaver meant that they needed to worry about one less person and killing the killer meant that they had to deal with the slavers on their own.

"I ended a slaver." She spoke, a leather strap in her mouth as she began to undo the buckles on her armor.

"Oh." Dorian nearly looked as disappointed as he sounded, "Well did you-"

"Aye." She nodded, "I saw him." She confirmed, spitting out the leather strap, "Left him pissed off. I doubt he'll give me a second pass tomorrow."

"Going to leave without me tomorrow, Elanda?" Zevran grinned, leaning against the doorframe.

"Aye." She confirmed, slipping off the entirely of her left arm off and placed it next to her helmet.

"Does that mean _you and I_ will be killing strangers?" Dorian asked, the amusement clear in his voice.

"Perhaps." Elanda took another strap into her mouth as she unbuckled her right arm and then spat it out when she was done, "It depends what he will do."

"You don't think the killer will attack tomorrow?" Dorian asked with furrowed eyebrows.

"I don't know much about our killer." Elanda shrugged as she reached around and unbuckled her breastplate, "It will be hard to say."


	12. The Trail of the Rebels

Elanda had spent the rest of the night planning with Dorian. Though it was mostly an up in the air decision. Elanda decided they would have to wait until breakfast to see if Calpernia had made other arrangements, or if Elanda and Zevran made her have to replan anything.

The Warden had also thought about how exactly Calpernia should proceed. Zevran had told the slavers that the pair of them were there to pick up the slaves for Calpernia. That ruined their anoniminity with the killer. He now knew that Elanda and Zevran were at east in league with Calpernia. He'd be looking for them now too.

But why not use that to their advantage?

It was an idea in progress and Zevran was more than happy to put in his ideas with theirs. They were a team now, they better start acting like it, or at least 'scheming and plotting together'.

Elanda felt her stomach turn at the thought of even buying slaves. But if that meant getting another audience with the killer, then so be it. She would pretend to buy slaves.

"You're not serious?" Dorian asked, leaning back to the couch.

Elanda had been standing with her arms crossed, leaning against the table, "It's the quickest way to anger him."

"And to get yourself killed." Dorian argued almost immediately, "And we won't have Zevran's dexterity to save us, or his darts, for that matter."

"We'll have your magic." Elanda looked at him, "I've seen ice magic do wonders. But that's as a last resort." She relaxed her arms against the table, "I don't want to kill him."

"Then what do you want?" Dorian asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Is it not obvious?" Elanda raised an eyebrow, "I hate slavery. He's killing slavers. You and your order want Tevinter to change."

"You're not suggesting we help him?"

"It's not such an outlandish thing." Zevran shrugged, "The Crows make politics run almost the same way."

The comparison didn't seem to make Dorian any more comfortable.

"Slavers and people like that aren't just born." Dorian argued, "They're made."

"And so are heroes." Elanda argued, making Zevran's face break out in a knowing grin, "You need help to rebuild Tevinter. You can't just write in new laws and abolish old ones and expect an overnight change."

"No, but it's better to have the writing done first." Dorian crossed his arms, "But to do that we need to be in a position of power. Something we don't have quite yet. And I would rather the Lucerni not turn into Tevinter's boogeyman."

"You lead by example." Elanda growled, "And then there comes a time for force. I'm not saying openly support this man, but if you can get him as an ally, he will be closer to his goal of killing more slavers and you will be one less slaver down."

Zevran watched Elanda and Dorian argue, his eyes going back and forth between the two. Elanda had a few years of running a country under her belt, and it was clear to Zevran that whilst Dorian was an idealist and passionate about reforming his country, he had no idea how to exactly go about doing that. It was under Alistair and Elanda's rule that Ferelden prospered. Zevran hoped that Dorian was smart enough to at least consider Elanda's advice, because if Elanda was left to her own devices, she would take the affairs of the Imperium's people in her own hands.

All while juggling her quest to find the cure.

Dorian leaned back on the couch, but said nothing as he mulled over Elanda's words. It was something to consider. After all: had he not done the same with the Venatori? They were still finding Venatori sympathizers in Tevinter and thanks to Aria they were meeting rather gruesome ends. Sometimes politically gruesome, sometimes actually gruesome.

"If you want to arrest slavers," Elanda continued with a sigh, "Then by all means. Just give them a sentence that they won't ever forget."

"And what would you suggest?" Dorian was almost afraid to ask.

"The dwarves always need help." Elanda shrugged, since it was common knowledge, "Ask the dwarves of Kal Sharok if you can set up a base camp at the edge of their safe zone."

"You want me to send slavers to the bloody Deep Roads?"

"Why not?" Elanda asked, "They either die with nobility or after a single night they come out changed." She crossed her arms again, "A week's sentence could be the minimum, until death could be the maximum."

The idea did seem to have some promise, but of course he wasn't Archon, nor anyone else in the Lucerni. Not even close, which rendered this conversation purely academic. But he had filed the opinion in the back of his head for use, if needed.

Dorian stood up, Zevran standing up as well, and Elanda just looked up as Dorian excused himself for the rest of the evening.

"This magnificent profile doesn't come easy." He jested, "Some of us _need_ to sleep. See you at breakfast."

Elanda scoffed with a small smile, and waved him off as he left.

"Is it wise, looking for a man who kills magisters? _With_ a magister?" Zevran asked with a raised eyebrow as soon as Dorian had left, "Or do you plan to do what I think you do?"

Elanda frowned, but stared at the spot where Dorian once sat, "He is a magister. And I'm on the killer's list. If we sweeten the pot, we will definitely get his attention."

"And you're not going to tell him?"

"If he's willing to come with me, he already knows the risks." Elanda looked at Zevran, "And if it hasn't crossed his mind already, then I'm sure he'll be flattered to play bait with me."

* * *

 

"Warden." Calpernia spoke lowly to Elanda as soon as she caught the Warden in the hallway.

Elanda slowed her pace, matching the footfalls of the Magister next to her, "What can I do for you, Calpernia?" She asked.

"I wanted to give you this." Calpernia handed her a bundle of papers, and Elanda stopped to read the first page.

"These are-"

"A list of names, yes." Calpernia held a smirk, "If you're going to be rescuing and freeing slaves when you're not looking for your cure, you might want to start with my list of contacts. You understand," Calpernia stepped in front of Elanda, "That my hands cannot be seen in this. I will deny any accusation or affiliation with you."

"As you should." Elanda nodded in understanding, flipping pages, "How many names-"

"Quite a few. Slavery is a lucrative business and slavers will commit to anyone with the proper coin." Calpernia's tone dripped with disgust, and Elanda couldn't help but agree.

"Hopefully people won't have to worry about being enslaved much longer." Elanda spoke idly, but pretending to look at the names, hoping to glean more information on the Lucerni's movements and actions, after all, Calpernia was the Spymaster. If there was anyone she could gather information from it might be her.

"Until we gain enough power and influence, I'm not sure how long. But until then, this is what we can do."

But she was disappointed, and perhaps that was rightly so; Elanda wasn't from Tevinter, not by any lengths or breadths of the word, she was born Ferelden through and through. A dog lord in the land of dragons, after all.

Elanda hummed with thought and then folded the papers, tucking them away in a pouch along her belt, "Did you have any business arrangements today?" Elanda asked as they continued their walk.

"I did not, no. But I do know one other who did. He was supposed to get back to me after breakfast, would you like to join me in my office for the procedure?"

Elanda smirked as she reached the door, holding it open for Calpernia and stepping in after the Magister, "Gladly."

* * *

 

Elanda followed Calpernia through the hallways of the Pavus Estate to her 'office'. Elanda wonered though where Calpernia came from. By the way she walked Elanda wanted to assume nobility; or whatever the equivalent was in Tevinter, but the 'nobility' didn't seem concerned with slavery- save for those in the Lucerni. Of course in the long run it didn't matter, did it? As long as the issue was dealt with.

Calpernia opened the door to the office and Elanda looked around, it looked pretty standard as far as offices went: a large overbearing desk, except the windows were on the side with the door allowing the light come in from the courtyard. The desk was made of a dark wood, ebony, if Elanda had to guess. On the outside edged there were carved dragons going around almost the entirety of the desk that may have one been a shimmering gold, but were now worn, as if too many hands had once felt each and every carved scale- much like Elanda was doing.

She spotted two bookshelves, filled to the brim, and took a guess that Calpernia had probably read them all- if not the rest of the mages in this household as well. Some were well loved, being taken over and over from their spot on the shelf, while some- very few- looked like they'd been taken once from the shelf and put back.

All in all; it looked like every other office Elanda had ever been to. But that's when the specks of light caught her eye and she looked up. The ceiling had been domed and lacquered with blue, gold flecks and glass imitating the stars in the sky and constellations glittered back.

She caught herself thinking: _I want one._

_"Making a mental note of that." Alistair chimed in her head._

She didn't suppress a grin as she continued to stare. Out of all the things she might have expected out of a Tevinter Magister, a beautiful ceiling was certainly not one of them.

_"You cannot villainize them all." Leliana admonished, "Just because some are doesn't mean the majority is."_

_"Then why do we always hear about the sodding bad ones?" Oghren grumbled, "Your Chantry got anything to say about that?"_

_"And besides," Alistair butted in, "Wasn't it Tevinter who gave the world the Blight in the first place?"_

Elanda took her eyes from the ceiling when she heard the sound of Calpernia moving some things around.

"My master once had a ceiling like that in his library. I had it replicated when I was recruited by Dorian."

Elanda raised an eyebrow, "I imagine that went well- with his Inquisition loyalties."

Calpernia wore a wry grin understanding the Warden's sarcastic remark, "Perhaps it would have been. If I had any remaining loyalty to Corypheus or the Venatori."

That struck Elanda in some fashion. Corypheus raised her to this status, didn't he? At least that's what she remembered Dorian telling her- but here Calpernia was telling her that she had no loyalties to the creature who gave her wealth and power. It was an interesting development, to be sure- and it made Elanda want to know more. But at the same time, this was Tevinter, and it was just exactly like Orlais in some fashions: you use your 'allies' to increase your own status, once they have proved their usefulness, you discard them.

Elanda made a hum of thought and took a place behind Calpernia when she sat down, making sure to stand tall and straight- though most importantly, looked foreboding.

The door opened by a man who gave a momentary pause that might have been lost on anyone else, Elanda saw it- and she assumed Calpernia did too. Elanda considered his pause to be a success- and knew it would make whatever was about to happen much easier.

People gave information better whether they were in fear anyways. Sometimes fear was more coercive than money.

* * *

 

"Did you get what you needed, Warden?" Calpernia asked a few moments after the man had left.

Elanda held the tiniest of smirks on her face as she began to open the door to leave, "I believe I did. Thank you."

"Don't get him killed, Warden." Calpernia's voice is stern and the woman is looking up from the letter she's started penning.

The Warden frowns, but stays silent as she leaves. This world is dangerous and even staying in ones home could get you killed. But Elanda plans to die when she is certain that she made this world better than when she had found it.

_"Haven't you done enough?" Alistair asked, his voice soft, "You killed Howe, defeated the Archdemon, and without you I never would have killed Loghain. My love, you don't need to do this... Please come home."_

But she couldn't. Not with evidence to a cure for the taint so glaringly obvious. Morrigan had seen to beginning this quest and now here she was, in Tevinter getting herself wound up in another civil war.

"Ah, there you are." Dorian jarred her out of her thoughts coming up beside her dressed in what she assumed was gear for battle, "Ready for another thrilling adventure of killing random strangers?"

Elanda chuckled, he was certainly straightforward. A trait she admired, truthfully, "Are they really strangers if we know who they are?"

"Do you know who they are?"

Elanda smirked, "I do now."

They went into Elanda's room where Elanda took the bottle of the honey wine and put it in the bottle that she called 'The Cousland Bottle'. It had a little bit of everywhere that she had been.

She took a healthy swig, offered it to Dorian who took it from her and followed her example, eyebrows furrowing at the taste before giving the bottle back, watching her put the cork in the neck and placing it back on the table.

"Has a bit of bite to it." Dorian commented, earning a chuckle from Elanda as she began strapping on her armor.

"It's the Antivan brandy with the Ferelden whiskey."

"A bittersweet taste of home?" It was a light jest, but by her momentary pause the slight tease hit a little too close to home.

"Never thought of it like that."

And that was the end of the conversation as she strapped on the rest of her armor quietly and systematically. She threw on her cloak over her armor and tucked her helmet beneath her arms and walked out of the room.

Dorian followed her out the door and looked around the room. There was little evidence that she had even been there at all: save for the Cousland Bottle sitting on the table next to the closed book.

The ride to the location was quiet, more quiet then perhaps Dorian would have liked. He was used to being surrounded by people almost constantly- even when he didn't want to be. Coming back from the meeting with his father, was a prime example. But the Inquisitor kept him company even if it was silent, and Bull was there with a tankard in hand.

But now? Now he missed the constant company, the babble of the strange group he called 'friends'. Even Blackwall- Rainier as far as things go. As far as people goes; he probably missed Varric the most. The dwarf always had some story to tell, some wit to share. Always had the last word.

"You remind me of someone." Dorian spoke breaking the silence between them.

"Do I?" She asked, her voice clearly giving the tone of distracted.

"He wasn't a Warden when we met him-"

"Ah. Rainier. Yes, I had heard the Inquisition had taken him in."

"He volunteered."

"They don't always."

That made him curious. "What do you mean?"

"Not everyone _volunteers_ to fight for a cause. Even if it's as noble as bringing peace and bringing down a Blighted creature." Elanda stared straight ahead, "Some people view that it's not their fight."

"You sound like you've been through this before."

"Perhaps. I've saved someone from being executed, took in someone who had never been inside a circle-"

"Do you know what your Southern circles are even like?"

"I am _well_ aware." Her tone was dangerous, almost angry. Dorian dropped the subject. Navigating what he could talk about was quite difficult when she was silent and stoic. Although he was sure there could be something he could talk about, right?

She was a frightening woman, after all- and rightly so- he had seen all of her scars, and he wanted to know the story behind all of them. Hadn't Zevran said something about not wanting to lose her again? Did he mean one of those scars?

"Will you tell me how you got one of your scars? At least?"

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, though her face suggested she was listening to something else entirely before shrugging and looking forward.

"One." She turned her head to smirk at him, "The one on my back, I'm sure you saw it."

It stretched all the way from her right shoulder blade to the left side of her lower back. It was gruesome and probably the largest one she had (from the look he got anyways).

"I was doing a part of my search in Antiva, now looking back on it, I'm quite surprised that Zevran didn't find me there..."

"Antiva is a small country, all things considered." Dorian chuckled.

"I came across a fairly large pack of Darkspawn. The skirmish took nearly an hour to finish, I was lucky though that they didn't have any emissaries. Magic Darkspawn are the worst... Well..." She sounded like she wanted to recant that statement, but just shrugged off the statement before continuing, "Anyways, I had just killed an Ogre, before the Alpha Hurlock comes from behind and slices my back open. Right through the leather and Silverite scalemail..." She shrugged.

"How did you even survive?" Dorian looked at her with near wonderment.

"I had one potion left and I had crawled away enough to use it before getting back up and killing the damn thing before limping back to the nearest Antiva city my insides barely being held in by my crushed ribs. I was quite the piece of work." She chuckled with a small smile, "Is one enough?" She glanced in Dorian's direction with a small smirk on her face.

"If all your stories are like that, I'm not sure I want to know the rest."

A jest. Of course he wanted to know. How could he not? She had so many. Dorian knew Grey Wardens saw action more than most soldiers would ever see in their lifetime, but she carried a Commander's posture, Dorian already knew she was nobility at the very least.

Her mystery was coming apart. Piece by juicy piece.

"We dismount here." Elanda murmured, beginning to get off her horse and petting the horse down the snout.

Dorian followed suit but smiled at the gentle affection the Warden was giving her horse.

"A fan of horses?"

"I didn't have a horse yet..." She laughed, "When I arrived at Weisshaupt on the back of a merchant cart, they were surprised that I didn't have a horse, to be fair, I also didn't have a horse since I was recruited."

"Had a horse back home, did you?"

Elanda nodded, "He didn't survive the betrayal."

"Betrayal? From the Wardens?" This intrigued Dorian, but when she gave a head shake, he only grew confused, "Betrayal from who?"

"From someone who I thought was a family friend." She frowned, stepping away from the horse, "But he is dead now. And I will have to rest easy knowing that."

"But you don't?"

Elanda slid her helmet on, "I never rest easy." She drew her sword, and their conversation was done. They were now going into battle.

But not before stumbling upon their slaver targets and their conversation. Elanda drew up her hand and gave Dorian a familiar 'hold position' signal.

"Now I heard that there's a Grey Warden poking around in Tevinter affairs."

"Probably just looking for damned recruits-they've been at it since their little stunt at Adamant."

"No, I'm telling you. She was working with the Lucerni, made a big show of conscripting someone in the middle of the square."

"And I'm telling you that Grey Wardens can't get into politics."

"Are you deaf? Grey Wardens will do anything to stop the Blight. How do you think the King and Queen of Ferelden got put on the throne?"

Elanda pulled up her hood, covering her helmet and attempting to do her best to stay within the shadows. This conversation she wanted to stop. It was bad enough that this conversation had tilted this far.

But she was no assassin.

"State your business." One of them stood and drew a dagger on her.

"Just passing through." She was obviously lying of course, but when they all began to draw weapons, Elanda decided to not carry on the act anymore, "Very well." Her sword arm went up in a slashing motion but found resistance with one of the slavers' sword.

"Certainly know how to throw a party, don't you?" Dorian quipped coming from the tree that was next to the one she was once behind and throwing a fireball.

Elanda grinned under her helm, grabbing the slaver in front of her by his collar and slammed her head against his, and pushed him away, letting him stumble to the ground for a moment before issuing the others to attack.

"There's your party, Dorian." Elanda motioned before blocking another swing of a dagger from a sword, but feeling the painful sting of a blade go through the blue fabric of her tunic underneath her blue tabbard. She hissed at the pain, but kicked off the slaver with a swift to his stomach and wiping a hand on the area and seeing blood on her leather gloves.

But she didn't quite have the time to stop, as she saw a wraithlike figure step into the battle engaging one of the slavers while Dorian raised a spirit from the one he had just killed, helping Elada with her opponent. There was a stinging sensation in Elanda's side, but held her hand on the wound, keeping pressure while she blocked her opponent's attacks until there was a clear opening for her to attack, curtesy of Dorian's spirit helper.

A small skirmish, but all of the slavers were dead, and one of them had their hearts ripped out.

"We meet again." The familiar and gruff voice of the killer spoke, not looking away from the heart he was crushing in the palm of his hand, "I hadn't given thought that you might be a Grey Warden..." His eyes seemed to lock on to Dorian and his expression immediately soured, "Though that doesn't excuse the presence of your current company."

"You're not the first to express your distaste of mages." Dorian spoke with a raised eyebrow, his eyes looking over the man for a moment, "Peculiar tattoos... Not made from the standard-"

"Dorian." Elanda made a motion for him to be quiet, "Friend," She turned back to the elf with the white hair, "We're with the Lucerni." She hissed at the pain on her side, beginning to feel the numbness in her fingers. Poison was no issue, honestly. It would make her fingers numb for a while, maybe make her blind for an hour, depending on the poison of course. Elanda was glad she was hit with it instead of Dorian. She knew that Dorian wouldn't survive because he didn't have Darkspawn blood coursing through her veins like she did. It made her poison resistant, and even better disease resistant.

The white haired man looked suspicious, but Elanda thought that the suspicious expression might be his normal expression.

_"Suspicious?" Alistair asked, "Or do you think broody is more of the word?"_

_"Well, I certainly don't think you could pull it off." Oghren grumbled._

_"I don't know... Given enough time, I think I could." Alistair argued._

And Elanda almost laughed, but was brought out of her thoughts by the voice of someone trying to hold a conversation with her.

"I will believe you are a Warden." The white haired elf spoke slowly, as if still looking over the two of them, "That poison would have killed you by now if you were not."

Elanda couldn't help but let out a sarcastic laugh, "Noticed that, did you?"

"You're poisoned?" Dorian looked horrified, "Why didn't you say anything?"

"They use it on particulary rebellious slaves... As a magister how do you not know this?"

Dorian tried to look in-between Elanda and the white haired fellow before attempting to look at Elanda's wound before she waved him off, motioning that he should answer the other man's question.

"It's simple..." Dorian finally finished his struggle to deal with Elanda with a sigh and looked at the white haired aggressor, "I don't deal with slavers. I don't own slaves. No one within the Lucerni does."

"And yet one of them buys slaves."

"She buys them their freedom. She let's them choose whether they want to go back home to their families, if they have any. Or if they want to work with us and have jobs."

"I will look into this." He spoke after a hum of thought, "But do not expect me to trust you so easily."

"Naturally." Dorian looked to Elanda who waved him off again.

"We should go." Elanda spoke, now starting to curl into herself, pressing her hand further against her side.

This shouldn't be happening. Her vision was starting to spin, her helmet felt stifling, and she felt her stomach contents begin to bubble as if she was going to be sick.

_"We need to get you to Zevran." Alistair ordered, his voice commanding and strong, yet underlying with panic._

Elanda gave a respectful nod to the white haired fellow, making a rushed attempt to sheath her blade.

"Take care of your friend, Magister. I give you the benefit of the doubt. There will not be a third."

Elanda nodded in thanks and put more pressure on the wound that she felt was bleeding profusely, but when she looked down at her hand again, it was the same amount of blood from before. What poison could do this? No poison had ever effected her like this, so what in Thedas was this?

Dorian definitely knew something was off now as she let him pull her free arm around his shoulder as they hobbled to their horses. Dorian helped her on her horse, and she didn't bother to take off her helmet, but he could see her grey eyes become hazy and glazed over.

"We need to get to Zevran." She murmured and Dorian only agreed.

"I'm sure you'll hold out. You've done so this long." Dorian spoke, though it was mostly to himself.

_"You'll make it Ellie." Alistair worriedly fretted, "You can make this."_

"Keep talking." Elanda mumbled, though she wasn't sure if she was talking to the voices in her head or to Dorian. She knew she just needed to focus on something.

"You know, I met the King of Ferelden." Dorian tried to pick a topic, "He was banishing the mages from Ferelden entirely... I thought he was mage friendly- though considering what Fiona had done to Redcliffe it was honestly no surprise..."

Dorian's worry increased the longer they were on horseback, but when they got back, there was Zevran in the stables, leaning against the door waiting for them and when he saw that Elanda was not at the front and slumping on her horse, it was clear that the elf began panicking.

"Warden?" He tried to get her attention, "Warden?" But nothing. He got the woman off her horse and with the help of Dorian carried the warrior back to her room, "I know just the thing."

* * *

 

_"See what I contend with, Howe? There is no telling my girl anything these days."_

_"I love you my darling girl, you know that, don't you?"_

_"My place is here at your father's side. To death and beyond."_

_"As soon as we are done here, I will turn my armies north and bring Howe to justice. You have my word."_

_"Perhaps it is an allegory that teaches us that our own evil causes suffering."_

_"You know the one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together."_

_"Now that is a proper, civil, greeting, even here in the Wilds. You may call me, Morrigan."_

_"You are required to do nothing, least of all believe. Shut one's eyes tight or open one's arms wide... Either way, one's a fool."_

_"We Grey Wardens pay a heavy price to become what we are. Fate may decree you pay your price now, rather than later."_

_"I'd sacrifice a lot more if I knew it would end the Blight."_

_"Not all who drink the blood survive and those who do are forever changed. This is why the Joining is a secret. It is the price we must pay."_

_Join us, brothers and sisters._   
_Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant._   
_Join us as we carry the duty that can not be forsworn._   
_And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten._   
_And that one day we shall join you._

_"In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice."_

_"You were called upon to submit yourself to the taint for the greater good."_

_"Every Grey Warden is needed now. You should be honored to join their ranks."_

_"You rely too much on these Grey Wardens, is that wise?"_

_"Yes... A glorious moment for us all."_

_"What are these darkspawn doing ahead of the rest of the horde? There wasn't supposed to be any resistance here!"_

_"The Chasind folk call me Flemeth. I suppose that will do."_

_"Now that is a good question. Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature."_

_"Maker's breath, but you're beautiful."_

_The Archedemon roared overhead, rubble fell, people screamed and swords rang._

* * *

 

"It's good to see you awaken, Elanda." Zevran breathed an obvious sigh of relief.

She felt her stomach rumble and lurch and she had enough time to lean over the bed and lose whatever stomach contents she had into the bucket that Zevran had been thoughtful to place next to her.

"The antidote is flushing the poison out of your system." He explained, "But regardless, I don't think you would have died from it."

She nods, as if she knew that, before emptying her stomach contents again... Though now she realizes how much she hates being sick.

"You were dreaming..." Zevran spoke again, looking her over, "Of what? You had quite the variety of expressions..."

"I was remembering." She stated plainly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and turning over back onto her back and staring at the ceiling with her head propped up on a pillow, "I was remembering everything." She grit her teeth and closed her eyes tightly, "Zevran..."

"Shall I look away in your moment of weakness?" Zevran teased, though by the pain in her voice he could tell she was ready to cry, "Or is this where you tell me everything you've been holding back for all of these years?" His tone is teasing, but he just wants her to not be in so much emotional pain.

It seems to work because she gives him a small smile before murmuring a "Thank you."

Then thanks to his antidote, she falls asleep once more.

"There is no need, my friend." He murmured and kissed her forehead, "If roles were reversed, you would do your best for me."


	13. Foul and Corrupt Are They

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry that I published this chapter late! But don't worry, the next chapter will be on Saturday, I promise.  
> As always, I love to hear from you and enjoy!

After Zevran had spoken to Maevaris about Elanda's recovery (leaving certain details out, of course) Maevaris had a bath drawn up for the Warden as soon as she had woken up. Not that Elanda minded a hot bath, but in the end it wasn't necessary.

But she climbed into the porcelain bathtub anyways, feeling the sting of the hot water on her new wound, deciding now was a good time to look at it. She grimaced when she saw small black tendrils follow the the veins underneath her skin. It reminded her of the ghouls that she had fought, but to a very lesser degree. Ghouls were the one Darkspawn she couldn't stand. They were once people, tainted by the Blight... It was a fate that she was fighting hard to avoid. If she could find a cure to the Blight... It would not only mean Alistair could live, but future Blighted people would not have to worry about losing their sense of self.

But what was the cost? What would be the cost of such a magical cure?

Did she even care anymore? Morrigan's ritual had seen both Alistair and Elanda live through the Fifth Blight. She didn't have a witch with dark magical knowing to save her this time. If it meant sacrificing herself... Well, she had avoided certain death once before. She was living on borrowed time anyways.

It's a statement that she had gotten from some of the older Wardens at Weisshaupt... As well as their contempt. They hated her for cheating death, wanting to know how she did it. Threatening to exile her if she didn't tell them, but they had no such power. She was the Warden-Commander of Ferelden.

_"I dare you to find someone to fill in my position." She had said to them with crossed arms, only to have the First Warden stew in his anger of not knowing._

_"How do you not know how it was done?" He asked, nearly slamming his fist on the table._

_Elanda stood in the middle of a room, each Warden-Commander there, save for Orlais, since they had retreated back to Weisshaupt after the incident at Adamant. Elanda knew she wasn't exactly 'on trial' but it certainly felt like it._

_At this question, she crossed her arms across her chest, looking directly into the First Warden's eyes, "I am no mage." She stated, watching how his dark eyebrows furrowed angrily in her direction, "I understand the general concept of magic, but not being a mage myself... I'm sure you can imagine that I have no idea how magic is actually done."_

_Part of it was true, and part of it wasn't. She knew what Morrigan had done, but refused to talk about it. For Morrigan and her child's safety._

_"For all I know it was blood magic." She spoke calmly and watched all of the Wardens grimace. With the event of Adamant so fresh in everyone's mind, they were sure they didn't want to make the idea that Elanda had survived Urthemiel by blood magic public, "So if that is all," She spoke, turning her back to the First Warden and walking towards the door, "You've wasted much of my time."_

_"Warden-Commander Cousland! Don't you walk away!"_

_She stopped and turned, her hand on the doorframe, "It's Warden-Commander Cousland-Theirin." Then as if it was no consequence walked out of the room, hands clasped behind her back._

Of course they could have exiled her as a Warden, no good deed goes unpunished, but that would have sent a negative message to all of the Grey Wardens.

She massaged her temples with her forefingers as flashes of the Joining rambled in her head, the battle with the Archdemon... She needed another book since the book on Dumat was not exactly helpful. She needed something more, something better. The Joining was, by all technicality, blood magic... So was it so outlandish that the cure might also be blood magic?

This was a Tevinter Estate. Surely they had a book on the subject.

"Is it really safe for you to be wandering about so soon?" Dorian fretted as Elanda walked to the library of the Pavus estate, "Elanda, you nearly died."

A knowing smirk appeared formed on her face, as if to tell Dorian that she knew something that he didn't.

"I'll be in the Deep Roads before a poison kills me." She held her smirk as she clasped her hands and the book of Dumat behind her back. And it was true, or so she would like to think. She was resistant to poisons, but not completely immune. It was possible she could die to a poison, but she highly doubted it.

_"Elanda, you need to be more careful. I'm not there to protect you..." Alistair begged, "I know it's useless to ask you to not go out again, but... For the Maker's sake, I can't lose you."_

Her smirk fell as she placed the book back on the shelf, feeling the spine once again with her forefinger.

How many times had he come close to losing her? How many number of times had she approached death's door?

_"One time too many." Alistair argued with a huff._

The Warden released a weary sigh as she picked up another dusty tome that seemed promising, Blood Magic Through The Ages. She couldn't see the author's name.

"Well, if I were writing about blood magic, especially now," Leliana chimed, "I would not want my name to be all over the cover."

_"Is it true that they teach it here in Tevinter?" Alistair asked._

_"Probably not publicly." Leliana shrugged, "Although neither country wants to admit it,Tevinter andOrlais have much in common. The only thing that stops Orlais from performing blood magic, even in private, would be the fear of their reputation falling. A house out of favor has no power, as I'm sure you've well learned."_

_"Celene actually likes us, I will point out." Alistair defended._

_"Though I have doubt it is because of you, Alistair." Morrigan sneered, "Elanda does have quite the charisma, when she wishes."_

"Someone's going to think you're going soft." Elanda murmured, looking to her side as if to see Morrigan, but seeing no one. The voices in her head instantly disappeared when she realized there was no one around.

Yet, she had responded to them, heard them as if they were there. How far was she from losing her mind completely? Why? Why was this happening to her?

"Warden?"

Elanda looked up from the open book in her hands, seeing Zevran leaning against one of the shelves with a raised eyebrow, "Is everything alright?"

The Warden scoffed, "When has anything been alright? Especially when _I_ get involved?" She knew he had heard her talking to herself, and she could probably get away with it... If it was someone other than Zevran. But he had been watching her, and Elanda knew it. There was no escaping the eyes of the Crow.

"The world does always appear to be coming apart at the seams when you are at the center." He grinned. Zevran allowed her to move the subject away from talking to herself. But the way she just spoke to herself was different than just generic mumbles. He saw the way she looked to her side and the way her face fell as if she had expected someone to be there, when they never were.

Her eyes scanned the current page in the brightly lit library before flipping it to the next, "Claiming that I am the one who pulls the seams apart?"

"Not at all." He argued, "Merely the seamstress who stitches it back together."

Elanda's face broke out in another wry grin, "Perhaps you forgot what a terrible seamstress I am."

That made a laugh break out from Zevran, "Oh, I have missed you quite dearly, Elanda... If only we could meet under less... Dire circumstances? Hm?"

"You ask as if I have control." Elanda flipped another page, freezing when she realized that he was going to corner her.

"Do you not?" He asked now, his face slightly falling.

"Zevran. Don't." She warned, "You know why I had to."

"Surely you could have picked up a quill." He wasn't going to let it go, "I followed your trail, Elanda. Weisshaupt is a mess, I should add-"

"And they don't like me in the least." She chuckled, "Especially after the few things I did while I was there."

"Is this counting the first time, or the last?"

"Does it matter?" She asked with a sigh, "The point is, Zevran: This is my quest. I love him dearly, but he needs to stay at home where it's safe."

"And what about you?" Zevran asked, "Elanda, surely you don't expect him to stay still forever."

Her silver eyes fell back to her book, "He has to... I don't see him getting a chance to leave anytime soon." She closed the book, but kept it in her hand as she passed him, walking out of the library and back to her room.

"Warden." Someone called out to her, and when Elanda turned around she saw the familiar face of Calpernia, "My contact says that you took care of those slavers last night. I wanted to thank you personally."

Elanda nodded, "I said that's what I was going to do, so I do it. There is no need for thanks."

"Any word on the one who targeted slavers?"

Elanda shook her head, "But to be honest, I think he has a dislike against the entire Imperium."

"Who can blame him?" Dorian asked walking up with his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall, "We haven't exactly played nice with others."

"And that's putting it mildly." Elanda agreed, "But I'm going to try to talk to him again tonight."

"Are you mad?" Dorian asked, "I don't think you should be walking around so shortly after your almost miraculous recovery."

" _I_ ," she accented the word pointing to herself, "Don't have the time to be in league with the Lucerni, but here I am, trying to help you get things done. So I'm going to get an ally for you and then we're going to go to the damned Circle."

Elanda took a breath, she didn't need to be this angry or lash out at anyone here. They were trying to keep her from doing something incredibly stupid. The Warden pinched the bridge of her nose while she breathed.

"I've been at this search for nearly ten years," she breathed, calming herself down, "I don't have the time to take breaks when I feel able."

Calpernia seemed unshaken by the Warden's unapologetic nature and understood that since Elanda had limited timespan, she would want to search as fast as possible. Dorian, on the other hand, wasn't exactly offended, since he had already gotten the notion that the Warden wasn't going to apologize for anything, regardless of circumstance. He saw her regain her composure, and he began to wonder what he would do if he was told he had a limited time left. Would he spend the rest of his time with loved ones? Or would he do all he could to make the world a better place for those still in it?

Either way, he realized almost instantly, there would be regrets at the end. She couldn't choose both, and she chose to spend it looking for a cure. It was a noble goal, something Dorian hoped he could help her with.

But he was afraid. He couldn't save Felix... So what made him think that he could save Elanda?

He had to try.

"We'll go as soon as we have this current situation under control."

Elanda turned to him, her shoulders slightly relaxed and her face softened, "Thank you, Dorian. I won't forget this."

Dorian grinned, "I like to be paid in candied dates."

Elanda nodded with a slight laugh, "I'll remember that too."

They stepped inside the room, soon joined by Zevran, who, to Dorian's dismay didn't seem to act as if Elanda planning yet another meeting with the white haired elf was anything short of stupid. She may have had poison resistance, but she wasn't as invincible as she thought she was.

And Dorian thought she was going to get a lesson on her mortality very soon. He didn't want to be there to see it.

But maybe he did want to be there for the inevitable, "I told you so." Though he was sure it wasn't likely to happen yet.

"You've made quite a name for yourself, Warden." Zevran teased leaning up against the wall, "And you thought you'd be done being everyone's favorite errand girl."

Elanda playfully scoffed, "Oh, I imagine I'll be doing other people's errands until the day I die."

There was a knowing smirk on Zevran's face and Dorian caught another bare hint of a smile on Elanda's face. Elanda, for all of her stoic and brooding glory, seemed to enjoy the challenge of wrangling the tough jobs of the Tevinter Imperium; which was currently all of it. Dorian idly wondered how she might fare in Seheron.

"What are your contacts saying, Calpernia?" Elanda asked, taking out the list of names and placing them on a desk before getting a quill out and wetting the tip with ink to scratch out names on it.

"With reports of other causes of death, there are rumors going around that it might be an escaped slave working with a mage." Calpernia almost seemed to smile, "It's giving others hope, Warden. There's whispers of a possible slave revolt."

"This country just keeps getting more and more interesting." Elanda smirked before looking to the two magisters present, "Are the Lucerni prepared for that?"

"We don't have the necessary support to actually do anything," Dorian sighed, "The Lucerni is a very young organization and its still-"

"Hang that." Elanda made a slicing motion with her hand, "Stock up on blankets, food, and buy empty estates. See that what little soldiers you do have are prepared and if they're untrained..." She sighed wiping one of her hands down her face, "I've trained recruits before, I can do it again... Thank the Maker we have all we need."

"Not to be a pessimist," Dorian raised a dark eyebrow, "But how do you have all you need?" He seemed ruffled by the prospect of a slave revolt, he knew his country needed to be reformed- but he was a magister. He could be one of the ones targeted. He and the other three magisters he called friends. There would be so much death... Was there any way to _lessen_ the amount of casualties?

Elanda took a long sigh and Zevran couldn't suppress a grin even if he had wanted to. He knew that she had been prepared for a Blight with little else than the armor on her back, and her dog. Of course, he had been one of the last additions to her merry band of misfits, but he wouldn't complain.

After all, he got to live.

She began listing off assets, "I can train the practice of sword and shield, Zevran could train others to dual-wield, the Warden on the way can train archers when he gets here, I have three mages I can completely trust, and if I can get this warrior on our side, then not only will we have another warrior and someone else to help train others, but I have seen him tear their hearts out. Fear is a tactic we can definitely use to our advantage, cause chaos among the enemy." She propped her chin on a hand, "Money isn't an issue that we need to be concerned about, thankfully."

"Even I know you can't fight a war without a treasury," Dorian interjected, if they were going to do this, they should at least do it right, and his time with the Inquisition had given him some knowledge on how a war is won, "Even with the four of our fortunes combined-"

" _If_ Aria decides to contribute." Calpernia said with a role of her hazel eyes.

"So three with a possibility of four major houses, we still won't have enough." Dorian let out another sigh, "I wish we had Josephine."

Elanda tapped her fingers on the desk, "I am no Antivan Ambassador," Elanda spoke, looking Dorian in the eyes, "But trust me when I say we have enough."

From the look on Zevran's face and the look in Elanda's eyes, Dorian doesn't have the grounds to argue. The lack of information makes his brain run with curiosity. What had they been through? What had they seen? It was obvious that they had seen much together, but what did a Crow and a Grey Warden have in common?

But more importantly, what face card did she have up her sleeve?

"Warden." Calpernia's voice made Elanda look up from whatever world she was listening to, "It's getting late."

Elanda looked out of the window and wore a wry grin on her face, "So it is."

They were quick to get going once again, Zevran rode next to Dorian in the back, while Elanda guided them towards their destination.

"Perhaps it's time to talk about what's been going on with the Warden." Dorian spoke softly, leaning closer to the Elf.

"You know," Zevran started with a grin, "You don't have to get that close for me to hear you, however I won't stop you if you want to get closer." It was a jest, Zevran could see the signs of a taken man. Still, the open flirtations gave Dorian pause, until the magister composed himself and got to the topic at hand.

"I know you've seen it." Dorian looks at Zevran after glancing at the Warden's back, "I think there's something going on that she isn't telling even you."

Zevran stared at Elanda's back. Dorian wasn't wrong. Zevran had seen the way she would stare into nothing with a concentrated look on her face as if listening, but to his ears there was nothing worthy of note to hear. Something was indeed going on with her, but what could it be? Her confidant was all the way in Denerim, and he could see that she was letting the pressure of her quest affect her.

"Do you have any ideas?" Zevran looked at Dorian with an expectant expression, when Dorian sighed, Zevran shrugged in resignation, "Then we can't do anything. Until she slips up, we will have to wait."

"You haven't tried talking?" Dorian asked with a raised eyebrow, "You two are... Close. I thought she might have said something."

"Ah, then you don't know her well enough." Zevran sadly chuckled, "I was never the one she spoke to about anything."

"Then who did she talk to?"

To avoid names and giving away Elanda's cover, Zevran replied, "Why her dog, of course."

Dorian didn't seem quite satisfied with this answer, but every time he tried to get a little deeper into Elanda's story or mysterious lack thereof, he was thwarted by side answers or silence. It only made him want to know more and it was maddening. What did she want hidden? Was she some dastardly fiend on the run from a royal family? Or was it a similar case to Rainier? A good man given a bad order and forced to deal with the repercussions?

"Do all Fereldens have dogs?" Dorian asked after a long period of silence.

Elanda scoffed, "You would think so, but there are some that I've met who had Mabaris and to this day I've wondered why."

"What do you mean?"

"In Ferelden," Zevran spoke now, "People don't choose the dogs. The dogs choose you." The sentence made the assassin chuckle, "As I understand, they mark you for life if they find you worthy. Although," He shot a grin at Elanda, who had now decided to slow her horse to speak to them, "If I am wrong, you are more than welcome to correct me."

"There is hardly any need. You're right, on all counts, save for the terminology."

Zevran looked to Dorian and gave a dramatic disdainful sigh and a playful roll of the eyes, "Leave it to a Ferelden to get technical about their dogs."

Dorian chuckled, the two of them must have known eachother for quite some time before Elanda decided to disappear, "You sound as if you've had one, Elanda."

Elanda gave a hum and a nod of confirmation, "He wasn't happy when I left. He barked and whined," The Warden gave a soft sad laugh, "He nearly followed me when I left..." Her mind saw Alistair and Hafter, staring at her as she left, but she didn't dare look back, "They both did."

"What was his name?" Dorian asked, making Elanda's mind go back to the topic of her Mabari.

"Hafter." She smiled fondly, "I was seventeen when my brother and I found him. He was huddling near his mother who had been dead for no longer than a day." She gave a slight laugh, "He was so small, my family thought he was sure to die, but I nursed him back to health." A bare smile formed on her lips, "'Now Pup, I expect you to take care of him. If he dies under your care, you are to bury him.'" She still remembered the words of her father, even though it had been... So many long years. She missed her father most of all.

She had lost count of how many events she would've liked to have shared with him.

"Stubborn on both counts." Dorian observed with a wide smile now that he was able to see yet another side of Elanda. If she was passionate about something, then she would go the extra mile.

Elanda had talked about training the Lucerni forces herself, not to mention gave the impression that she would help fund their inevitable war with the rest of the Imperium.

But why? What was her gain? Dorian had learned that everyone had hidden motives and it was rare to find someone who didn't; So what was hers? Why did she care so much about Tevinter, when it was so clear that the rest of Thedas didn't?  
Dorian wasn't able to think upon it further because there was suddenly a shout of angry pain and an arrow in Elanda's shoulder.

Dorian barely had enough time to summon a barrier before hopping off his horse- he would be no good fighting on it.

Elanda angrily ripped the arrow out of her shoulder and threw it down on the ground again- whatever arrow tips they were using could go through her armor. Granted it hadn't fully rooted itself into her shoulder, but the second hit would be harder than the first.

Elanda hopped off her horse and pulled her shield from her back before giving her horse a swift smack to send it running away. She knew the horses would know their way back home. Animals were always smarter than humans gave them credit for.

It was an ambush. And to Elanda that meant one of two things; they had bandits even in Tevinter, or they had a mole within their midst.

When the attackers came from behind the tree, Dorian was quick to send one of them flying back with a spell, while Elanda hit hers with a shield, and Zevran was in a duel with blades with another. Elanda thought about Howe, his voice, his snobbish attitude, and ultimately his betrayal.

She opened her eyes and released a battle cry that changed the battle. Dorian had heard battle cries before when he had fought next to the Inquisition warriors, but hers was different. Elanda's was filled with a rage that he couldn't even begin to describe- but the sound made him thankful she was on their side.

"Get the Warden!"

She had made herself the biggest target on the battlefield. With this realization and the hesitation of his own enemy, Dorian brought up his staff and hit him with the tip before spinning his staff in his hands and stabbing through the man's stomach, twisting the blade in both directions before pulling it out and casting a fire enchantment on Elanda and Zevran's weapon.

Zevran grinned at his flaming daggers and then smirked at the enemy he found himself in a duel with. A skinny man, no older than thirty, by Zevran's guess, handsome features accented by a scar, it would be a waste to kill such a handsome individual, but it could not be helped. Zevran took the offensive instead of the defensive, swinging his blades, but always meeting his opponents. At least until Zevran skirted around the man, digging his daggers into the man's back- right below his ribs and then again into the area between his shoulder blades.

The man was as good as dead.

Elanda was used to fighting multiple opponents at once. She had been traveling alone for nearly a decade now, so this was natural for her. Blocking an attack with her shield and her blade, while kicking an attacker away. It was a dangerous time to multi-task, especially since she was dealing with an injury already.

It was systematic, she would knock one enemy away while blocking another, then taking a swing at the third. One, two, swing, one, two, swing. She had followed her opponents into the surrounding forest, their blades ringing in the air- one of her foes dead behind her. Then another one dropped to the dirt to die and then when the third dropped from exhaustion, Elanda ended him too.

She was breathing hard, blood on her weapon and splatters on her shield and armor as she looked around the forest, the evening sun peeking through the canopy. But it was quiet.

Until she heard a shout from behind her and she whipped around, sticking her sword through the stomach of someone that definitely seemed like a hired thug.

So what was going on here?

She pulled the sword from the body and let him fall to the ground, her companions running towards her also out of breath.

"You leave an easy trail to find." Dorian quipped as soon as he regained his breath.

"A Grey Warden is not what I expected."

The new voice made Elanda turn around again and a mage emerged from behind another tree, "Nor a magister. Dorian, isn't it?"

"And I'm sure you'll forgive me if I can't recognize your face behind the mask." Dorian said warily.

"Ah, how silly of me. I'm so used to wearing it now." The mage took it off and Dorian seemed to grimace. 

Dorian remembered the bronze glow that this man's low cheekbones once held, the serene smile he _used_ to have, but the mask he now wore hid his scars that covered under half his face. Dorian's memory suddenly recalled in vivid detail how this man got those scars. 

"Eldon Matthias... How nice it is to see you again."

"Under much better circumstances now, I think." Eldon seemed to chuckle.

"Aria's nameday celebration went better than I expected... But finding you at the head of this isn't a total surprise, I'll admit. Or at least, not as surprising as Aria setting half of her wardrobe on fire." Dorian sounded like he was admitting something.

"She has become rather tame." Eldon admitted, "At least as of late. Her blood magic practice has certainly waned."

"What can I say?" Dorian shrugged with a slight ego-inflating smile, "Her friends have been a good influence."

Eldon scoffed, "As if the woman has any."

"You might be surprised."

"Maybe. If I wasn't busy dealing with you and your friends here." The tip of Eldon's staff began to glow, "I was expecting a slave and a mage, but a Warden, Magister and a Crow? How interesting."

Elanda hated fighting mages from distances. They always managed to tip the scales to their advantage. She needed to get up close and he would have no chance to survive. But perhaps with a mage on their side she could find a way to tip the scales in their favor instead.

She needs ice.

The Warden charged forward with her shield in front and when she connected, she connected with something hard and solid. It was ice, but it didn't shatter. She felt her arm ringing and she heard a laughter as she was blasted back with the all too familiar spell of Mind Blast.

She was thankful she had her shield or she would have been full of ice shards.

Elanda leapt up from the dirt and looked to her two companions that were hiding behind the trees, but other than the flabbergasted look on their faces, they were unharmed.

"Ice, Dorian?" Eldon scoffed, "I work with ice!"

Elanda saw the blizzard he was starting to charge, she had been in a mana blizzard before and when she did emerge victorious, she had the beginning symptoms of Frostbite. Dorian was an ice Mage, since his go to opener was ice, Elanda knew he was fine, but she would still have to end this quickly.

She found herself in need of another warrior. She needed Alistair, his Templar abilities certainly would have been useful.

She charged forward again and gave him a swift pommel strike, interrupting his casting and making him take a step back to cradle his broken nose.

But what she didn't see, was his extra minions that had come from the trees behind them. She had walked from an ambush into a trap. She should have known this would happen. But it was clear by the bolster of their force, they were expecting someone else completely.

"Blood?" Eldon laughed as Elanda went for a swing with her sword, she desperately needed a Templar- she wished she had asked Alistair to train her. But she respected his wishes to keep his promise to the Grand Cleric.  
"You think blood will stop me?"

Elanda knew she was in trouble, so she gave a shield bash in order to stop him, and then a pommel strike before going for that final blow- but being knocked back. Not by Mind Blast, but by something else entirely. Elanda realized she had been foolish not take a fourth person and but she would see her companions live.

Even if she had to die.

She gave another battle cry and thought of Loghain. How he killed the Wardens, how he looked her in the eyes and called her a traitor. He killed Duncan and Cailan when he retreated at Ostagar. He let them all die.

She ran her sword through the nearest enemy, raised her shield to deflect an arrow, met her sword with another blade before giving a head-butt and slicing their chest completely open.

She started to take on another three opponents to get them off of Zevran and Dorian, but even with that, they were still overwhelmed. And there was no way she could stop Magister Eldon from becoming-

That's when she heard it. That inhuman scream of pain, mixing with gleeful laughter and rage. The smell of burning hair and flesh came to her nostrils and then an overwhelming smell of rancid copper.

The sound alone, nearly made the battle stop as they all turned to watch Eldon's skin bubble and explode to grossly expand, his skin blotchy with pink, red and black.

It was hard not to hear the crunching and breaking of bones over what should have been a noisy battle, and from the look on some of the faces, it had been their first experience seeing someone turn into an abomination.

Elanda had seen too many mages become abominations over the years, though none more so than at the Circle of Ferelden. But she had to take advantage of the momentary pause. Her fist met with the jaw of the attacker in front of her and then she used her shield to knock him down before bringing her sword down.

"I'm sure you didn't picture it like this, did you, Dorian?" Zevran grinned as his back met with Dorian's.

"Dying in a forest isn't a feeling that's new, but being on the cusp of a slave rebellion... That is new."

"I would say you should travel around, but there aren't slaves to rebel anywhere else."

"Tell that to your southern circles."

"Touché."

There was a wisp of white smoke and Elanda felt a blood spatter on the left side of her armor and when she took a moment to look next to her, she saw the white haired elf with his broadsword drawn and the white markings on his skin glowing.

"Late to my own ambush." He commented with a scoff, "How embarrassing."  
  
Elanda couldn't help but laugh. Magister Eldon and his rather large crew of minions were waiting on the elf, not that they knew it was an elf who wasn't a mage- or maybe he could be. Elanda had heard of Arcane Warriors. It was possible that he was a different sort... But what the 'ambush' party was getting was far worse than just a possible Arcane Warrior.

"We should address the issue of our third encounter after he is dead."

"Can't argue with that." Elanda nodded, cutting down the opponent on her right side.

The grotesque figure of what was the once recognizable face and figure of Eldon Matthias charged at them and Elanda was the one to meet his charge with a long and loud cry as she brought her shield up meeting his taloned hand. She was close now, she thought gritting her teeth as he increased the pressure on her shield.

"Help them." She ordered, having no time to ask properly for his help. Dorian and Zevran were needing help more than she was at the moment, now that she had the abomination's attention.

It was much bigger than what she had fought in the past. The smell of both burning and rotted flesh making her almost vomit as she saw the blackened talons reach around her shield. She used her mobility to her advantage, twisting around and using her sword like an axe, bringing it down on a powerful motion in a vain attempt to cut off his thickly mutated arm.

The creature roared back in pain, the sound ringing in Elanda's ears. The mages that were forced to turn into abominations had Elanda's sympathy, but mages like Uldred or Eldon... They had that choice. They made that deal with a demon, and for that alone, the didn't deserve sympathy.

The only thing they deserved was a swift death.

"Elanda!" Zevran shouted, and she turned around just in time to meet a swing of yet another opponent.

It was easier now, that she had another warrior. With barely a moment to spare, she swung her shield to put some distance between her and the Tevene thug before going for that delivering swing. As she found herself doing so, Elanda saw a bloodstained broadsword cut through her opponent's shoulder before the man crumples to the blood soaked dirt. The two warriors shared a very brief nod before turning their attention back to their respective opponents.

Which for Elanda, meant the abomination Eldon Matthias. This was not a fight she would ever back down from, nor ask anyone else to do. The abomination had recovered from the blow, screaming in Elanda's direction and she readied her shield, preparing for it's charge.

Dorian took a glance to Elanda and saw that she had her bloodied shield in front of her and sword in her grip but above the shield. She was ready for its charge, but Dorian threw a barrier over her anyways, just to sate his worry. She was in a lot more danger than he was, from his perspective.

The abomination charged, trampling a few of the souls who had been hired by the now rampaging magister. Elanda wanted to feel bad for them, but she thought they should have stayed home.

She braced for the impact, making sure her legs were in the proper stance before he actually hit her shield. There was a ringing in her arm, but once again, her shield had taken most of the damage. Elanda was pushed back a few inches before taking one step back and giving him a shield bash. 1, 2, 3, and then brought her shield in an upswing slicing him almost completely open. The creature clawed at his wound in confusion as blood poured from it, but the reaction gave Elanda enough time to bring her sword down for that final and fatal strike.

Once the abomination had been brought down, Elanda watched him twitch and spasm. The demon released a final roar, obviously quite unhappy with it's current predicament, and the forest was once again brought to silence.


	14. We'll Do It Your Way

Elanda didn't hesitate to strike the next person down. They had gotten what they deserved. They had taken the magister's coin and fought even after he was dead. What made them take the money? Blackmail? Desperation?

The Warden sheathed her blade and found herself frowning when Zevran brought a single man forward with a dagger to his throat.

"The leader, as it so happens." Zevran informed Elanda and he could see a weight lift off her shoulders. A small victory.

Her silver eyes narrowed down at the leader of this mercenary group and she made a nod to Zevran who let him go without a word. Elanda stepped to the side, revealing more of the abomination.

"Why?" She asked, hand on her blade ready to draw.

The man, clearly muscled from years of doing this exact thing, spat out a bit of blood and wiped his lip with the back of his hand, "Challenge was good and I needed something to do."

Elanda could see their new friend tense and his own eyes narrowed.

"I didn't know we'd be fighting a Grey Warden, he just came to me with a job and money promising half now and half when the job was done."

Her hand relaxed and she took another step back, her eyes meeting the eyes of their strangely tattooed friend. This ambush was meant for him, this trap was meant for him. She had already taken the kill of the magister.

Those rumors of escaped slaves working with a mage were definitely going to be heightened. Sword strikes, magic, dagger slices... Evidence of a group. The idea would gain momentum the more they ended the lives of slavers.

But there had to be a distinct calling card.

She nodded to Fenris, who stepped forward with his hand already glowing white, reaching into the man's chest and past his armor. The elf tore out his heart, letting the still beating organ pump in his hand for a second before crushing it in his pointed gauntlet. With not even a chance to fight back or scream in pain, the leader fell forward dead.

"I... Must apologize." He spoke, almost as if he was searching for the right words, and Elanda began to think that apologizing wasn't something he did often, "Calpernia does buy freedom. I have spoken with a few of those that have jobs with the Lucerni."

"Good." Elanda said with a nod, taking off her helmet, "Because I want to ask for your help."

"What does a Warden want with Tevinter?"

Elanda sighed with a shrug, "Quite a bit, as it evidently turns out."

"I feel as though we have met before..." Zevran interjected with a raised eyebrow.

There was a deep hum from the other elf as they glanced over one another, "Ah. The Crow from the Wounded Coast."

"You were the one that the dwarf called... Broody, no?"

"Yes." The white haired elf stated with a large sigh, "Varric had nicknames for all of us."

"Varric?" Dorian asked, almost surprised, "Varric Tethras?"

"Do you know of any other loud-mouthed dwarves?" He sighed again, "After a while I began getting sick of trying to correct him that I wasn't 'brooding'."

"You're... Fenris?" Dorian's hazel eyes went wide, "If... If it means anything at all, I'm glad you killed Danarius."

"Is there a corner of the world that the dwarves' words haven't touched?"

A laugh escaped Dorian, "Clearly not. Empress Celene's handmaidens wanted to know if he was _'involved_ ' with anyone."

"I would love to see anyone come between Varric and his crossbow."

"Ah yes... Bianca." Dorian sighed, "Quite a mess, actually."

Elanda propped her helmet on a stump as she began rummaging through the dead bodies, finding only some with the familiar weight of a coin purse and she puts one on her belt before putting aside three more and then finding only three more after that.

"Warden, what are you doing?" Zevran asked after a moment of watching her.

She stood up and threw two bags to each of them, "Finding those." She made a motion to the bags in their hands, "Dead men don't need silver."

"Business later." Zevran playfully admonished, but tied the little bags onto his belt, "Introduce yourself to our new friend. The one you just recruited, I might add."

"It's a habit I noticed." Dorian quipped with a small smirk.

"Oh, you're not wrong," The Antivan laughed, "When we met, she didn't introduce herself until she was finished asking me questions."

Elands stood to her full height, "I'm Warden Elanda Cousland." She put a balled fist over her chest and bowed.

Fenris looked the Warden over for a moment and seemed to contemplate a question in his mind, turning it over and over in his head, "Do you know of Bethany Hawke?"

Elanda picked her helmet off the stump she had placed it on and nodded, "She's a good Warden. I wouldn't be alive without her..." She looked around at all of the bodies once more with a frown, "We should go. We don't want to be around when this is discovered."

Elanda stepped through the corpses and kept them on the edge of the forest, avoiding the main road, since none of them had horses due to the ambush they had to walk back on foot.

It was a long trek back, the silence occasionally broken up by small conversation until they arrived at the Pavus estate. Four bloodied people without horses.

If it had been any other place or time, they might have been stopped by a patrolling city guard, or perhaps even more bandits, but Elanda allowed herself to believe that because she was in the Tevinter Imperium, that no one would care about four bloodied people that were headed towards a Magister's estate. The thought didn't give her any comfort.

They entered through the stables and much to Elanda's relief, the horses that had been sent off at the beginning of the ambush had returned. If her gauntlet hadn't been stained, she would've stroked the long snout of the speckled mare. When Elanda's grey eyes met with the blue ones of the mare, she gave a soft huff as if she was scolding the Warden.

Elanda raised a red eyebrow from beneath her helmet at the horse, almost as if silently daring for the animal to huff at her again, but the animal stayed still and silent, merely blinking at the Warden expectedly.

_"She's just worried about you, Elanda." Wynne's voice came with a short chuckle, "After all you still haven't treated that wound in your shoulder."_

Wynne wasn’t wrong. It had been… How long since the arrow had gone through the silverite? Several hours at least. But now that the battle was over and Elanda didn’t need to worry about a further possibility of ambush, she could treat the wound.

Elanda placed a hand on her shoulder to put pressure on it, and hissed at the sharp, nearly stabbing pain. It was difficult to shrug off the pain, but when she did, Elanda strode past the men, and turned to face them, "This is going to spread quickly." The Warden spoke, interrupting the silence, "We need to lay low now that we've officially ruffled the feathers of the magisters. They're going to be more cautious, but we'll have our ears to the ground." Her shoulders seem to tense up, making her stand taller, "I'll talk to Calpernia in the morning and give her a briefing of our success."

"Spoken like a true Commander, Elanda." Zevran grinned, admiring how fast she had taken over their situation, not to mention taking over the entire Lucerni operation with minimal effort.

"Yes, fantastic work." Dorian applauded, making Elanda's eyebrow twitch, "But what do you think we should do about the slave revolt rumors?"

"The choice is obvious." Fenris spoke up with a deep frown, "Slavery cannot be allowed to continue."

Elanda looked to her three companions, and heard them all out. They all agreed that slavery had to stop- that slavery could _not_ be an option, no matter what. But they were four members. The four of them no doubt had different ideas to go about stopping slavery, and what to do about the slave revolt entirely.

A kingdom rules on the opinions and decrees of one or two powerful individuals, but an organization has many faces that all need to decide on something together.

"I agree." Elanda said with a nod, "I think we all do. Some of us," she looked to Dorian, "have already taken steps to abolish slavery from their lives."

"As have the rest of the Lucerni."

"But it's not enough." She sighed, "And we can agree on the abolition of slavery all we want, but we need to decide on how we go about doing that." She took a moment for pause, glancing in front of her wishing she had a table, "And that means we will need the whole of the Lucerni to do that."

"That..." Dorian shifted his weight from one foot to the other, "Will be difficult."

"Why?" Elanda snapped, "I don't know if you've noticed, but we killed a magister's son." Her eyes narrowed, "The Lucerni needs to make their decision quickly."

"One of our members is in a precarious position." Dorian tried to explain, but getting the glares of both Elanda and Fenris, "If Aria even comes back before the meeting at Minrathous, her position not only at court but also with the Lucerni is compromised."

"I'm starting to doubt her loyalty already." Fenris scoffed with clear disgust.

"I will be the first one to admit that Aria has done questionable things for the Lucerni, but we've always come out on top."

"When doesn't a magister come out on top?" Fenris scowled.

"Bloody politics." Elanda frowned, "Of course... We need to take the rest of the day to regroup. We'll figure out what to do." She threw another glance at Dorian, "Including with Aria."

She took her helmet under her arm and began walking towards the room that had been given to her and she was more than happy to strip her armor after sitting in a chair.

_"You know, if you wanted to attend a dance with politics, I'm sure we could arrange something in Denerim." Alistair joked._

Elanda scoffed as she took off the first of her silverite greaves, "Always bloody politics." She mumbled to herself, "Nothing can be simple anymore, can it?"

"If everything was simple, then how would people like us have a job?" Zevran entered the room, a red vial in his hand, "You think you could slip away without taking one of these?"

Elanda leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees as she looked up at him for a moment, taking a quick glance at the red vial he held up. "You're taking up after Wynne." Her smile was remorseful as the elf placed the vial in her hand and sat down on the couch.

"Someone has to make sure you don't try to kill yourself." Zevran watched her carefully, she placed the vial on the table and began taking off her armor again, "At least one can never claim to be bored around you."

She took a pause as her fingers graced over the straps of her gauntlets, and he watched as her eyes were focused on nothing, but her facial features were intent. She was listening to something again. Zevran didn't hear anything out of the ordinary, so what was going on?

Elanda sighed and pulled at the straps of her gauntlet, her movements slow, defeated, "I don't have time to wrangle the Tevinter Imperium," She spoke sadly, "But here I am anyways. Why?"

Zevran's shoulders fell, what could he say to bring up her spirits? She was his dearest friend, gave him purpose, and she was losing hers... He got off the couch and kneeled in front of her, placing his hand on her knee, getting her attention so she would at least look him in the eyes.

"You love Thedas," He tried choosing his words carefully, "Without you, Thedas would have fallen, and I won't believe otherwise..." He patted her knee in the small silence, before taking her hand and wiggling her pinky, "I have seen you kill more darkspawn with your pinky then your sword," A terrible lie, but it got a slight laugh out of the Warden, "And if you can kill darkspawn with your pinky..." He playfully scoffed and put her hand back down, "Then what chance does Tevinter have when against your silverite will?"

Elanda swallowed hard and her jaw clenched before she gave a small smile, "Do you say that to all of the female Wardens?"

"Not at all," He squeezed her hand before standing up, "Just you." He reached towards the red vial, "Now drink."

"And put you out of the nanny business?" Elanda took the vial from his hand and uncorked it before pouring the entire thing in her mouth before quickly motioning to the 'Cousland Bottle' on the table which he quickly handed her, and she took a significant swig from it, "Potions are vile."

"And there's the sort of wit I would have expected from your husband." Zevran chuckled, pulling up a chair to sit close to her.

Elanda let out a slightly bitter laugh, "Where do you think he got it from?"

There was a slight pause, "It seems I owe him that five silvers."

"What made you bet on that?" Elanda let her other gauntlet fall to the floor.

"I said that there was no way that you could have said such a thing." Zevran shrugged, "That he was making it up."

"Especially when you know this to be untrue?" Elanda chuckled, looking at him and she shook her head before removing her leather gloves, "He's going to be so smug when he gets those silvers from you... Smug bastard."

_"That's royal smug bastard to you, my dear." Alistair chimed in._

It made Elanda roll her eyes, of course he would interject.

"Yes, but would we love him otherwise?" Zevran chuckled, once again watching her closely.

Elanda smiled, fiddling with the buckled leather bands that held her breastplate together, "It wouldn't matter." She murmured, now loosening the straps, "I would love him all the same."

_"Softie." Leliana sang from the back of Elanda's mind._

 

* * *

 

"The slavers we had followed proved to be in greater numbers and a greater threat than what we had anticipated." Elanda informed Calpernia after breakfast, standing in the Magister's office.

"But you handled it?" Calpernia asked with a blonde eyebrow raised.

"Only after Magister Eldon Mattias turned into an abomination." Dorian added crossing his arms, "They're getting Magisters on their side."

"The slavers have always had magisters on their side." Fenris commented with a roll of his eyes, "Tevinter just keeps turning a blind eye."

Calpernia listened, Fenris was right. But the fact that Magisters were becoming public... "Well, no more." Calpernia's eyes were resolute, "I will send Aria a letter through Bromwell and ask her to reveal both Matthias' ties to the slavers, and his avid practice of blood magic." She seemed to understand the look that Fenris had on his face, "It will be too much for them to ignore."

"Magisters against Magisters." Fenris scoffed, "Somethings never change."

That made Dorian bristle. They were doing the right thing, weren't they?

"I hardly expect the proper way to have the same sort of impact." Elanda shrugged, "And I highly doubt that the current Archon will want to be the judge."

"More like the executioner." Fenris spoke flatly.

Dorian would've normally been happy to argue, but they were right. Archon Radonis was promoting one of the most violent reigns since Archon Thalasian... And to be compared with the Archon who destroyed Arlathan- or allegedly destroyed Arlathan, was not a good comparison. No doubt the only thing that had kept Tevinter from being at war with Nevarra was the Inquisition's neutral involvement along the border.

But now with the rumors of a slave revolt, and tensions rising with the Qunari (at least Tevinter wasn't alone in their upcoming war with the Qunari now)- Tevinter had to prepare for war on all fronts.

There would be a lot of bloodshed by the end of this age, and there was nothing Dorian or the rest of the Lucerni could do to stop all of it... This was his home. As loud as his self-preservation was screaming to run away; How could he? How could he abandon all of the work that he'd already put into it to make it better? He couldn't abandon everyone to fight it out without him. That's not who he was.

"Why would this... Bromwell character do anything for the Lucerni?" Elanda asked with a raised eyebrow.

"He's Aria's bodyguard." Calpernia answered shortly, scribbling something on the parchment, but waking Dorian out of his thoughts.

"Yet if you were to ask me, the title is just for show." Dorian commented with a scoff.

"What makes you say that?" Elanda asked, turning her raised eyebrow in Dorian's direction.

"Because today is the day for his measurements." Calpernia seemed deep in her letter, so Elanda made a motion for them to scurry out of Calpernia's office, watching the door closed as she stayed. Elanda needed to speak to her in private. 

"You need to call her to action." Elanda said, talking of Aria, "We will need her help for what is to come."

Calpernia nodded, "We will need all of the help we can get." Calpernia sighed, dipping her quill in ink, "But Aria-"

"Is in a precarious position?" Elanda asked in irritation, quoting Dorian's words from before. 

"More...  _Embedded_  in Tevene culture." Calpernia growled.

"'Stubborn' is what I'm hearing." Elanda crossed her arms.

"And you wouldn't be wrong." Calpernia pinched the bridge of her nose, "But this is a delicate situation."

"Then let me make it easier." Elanda leaned forward, her hands on the edge of the desk, "How likely is assassination?" She asked the question lowly, the volume and the tone made Calpernia look back up at the Warden.

"It's always likely." Calpernia answered, "But Aria is under threat even more so."

"Because of her status?"

Calpernia's hazel eyes narrowed, "Warden, where are you going with this?" 

"Dorian told me that she will be unable to act with us because of her 'precarious position'." Elanda made the quotation marks with her hand before leaning forward again, "And now that I know her bodyguard is here, she's unable to defend herself right? And likely to ask help from her most trusted allies."

"From the Lucerni, yes..." Calpernia still didn't quite understand what exactly Elanda was building up to.

"If she can't act with us, because it would compromise her position, then we shouldn't act with her under the same premise." Elanda wore a smirk on her face, watching Calpernia's eyes widen.

Calpernia looked at Elanda for a moment, her eyes going up and down, as if questioning if she was hearing the Warden correctly. Was the _Ferelden_ Warden saying that they keep out of the possible attempt on Aria's life? It would keep Aria from being compromised, most definitely- and Calpernia knew that Aria could very well handle herself against assassination; at least a physical assassination.

But how could Elanda's thought process be wrong?

It was a situation that Calpernia was sickened by, yet found herself unable to do anything else.

"Very well, Warden." The mage muttered, going back to penning her letter, "We'll do it your way."


	15. Nothing Will Change

"To another task well done." Dorian grinned, holding up a glass of wine, "Tevinter looks brighter yet and with the new allies we have made today, I dare say there will be a better Tevinter in no time." Dorian paused for effect, "Tevinter will be the crown of Thedas, no longer decorated by tyranny, decadence, slavery or blood magic-"

"Then what's left?" Fenris blurted, already taking a sip from the glass that he had poured.

"I admit it's not a perfect speech-"

Elanda laughed, "Pre-writing a speech doesn't do anyone any good. It tells me that you expected to win from the start. Even when that is not the case. We could still lose everything tomorrow."

"I just wanted to have the right words to inspire." Dorian motioned to Elanda, "As a Grey Warden, I would have expected you to understand." Dorian jested taking a small sip from his cup.

The Warden took a sip from her bottle, "The days I give speeches, we'll be at war" She smiled wryly, "I leave the pretty, inspirational speeches to my husband."

Zevran scoffed at her lie. Alistair was a good king, there was no lie in that. But, Alistair... Give speeches? 'Pretty ones' at that? To soldiers, yes. To the people, yes. To nobles? Not quite. As much as Elanda groaned at having to deal with the Ferelden nobility (for the short time she was at court) she was the most apt for it.

"We'll be hearing your inspiring words soon then, I take it?" Dorian lowered his glass of wine and his smile, "Seeing as Tevinter is going to war, whether we want it or not."

Elanda shrugged and took another sip from her bottle, "It seems that way, Dorian." She corked the bottle and placed it on the table, staring at the dark glass as she spoke, "But relish in these small victories. Because when war starts, we cannot stop. We will need to pull our strength from everywhere we can. Especially from our small victories." She took a pause as she stood up, "Our small victories tell our enemies the patience we're capable of. Our small victories show them that we are very capable of taking their victories from under their feet."

"War is terrible," Elanda continued after another pause, "But when Tevinter emerges it will be better, stronger." Her palms were flat against the table, "And the Lucerni will make it that way."

Dorian was in awe. He felt as if they were going to win, even to spite the war that hadn't even started yet.

The mage raised his glass, and to his surprise, so did Fenris. For someone who hated Tevinter as much as he seemed to, why did he want to see it redeemed?

"Oh yes." Zevran nodded, "Save the pretty speeches for your husband." It was another tease, evident by the smile on the Antivan's face, "You're no good at inspiring." A chuckle left his lips as he took a sip from his glass.

Elanda smirked as she took the bottle from the table and uncorked it, "Perhaps I haven't lost my touch after all." She sat down once again in the chair and took a sip, placing it back on the table for future use.

Fenris stayed silent as her words turned over in his head. He was surprised at the strange emotion that welled in his chest. It was a feeling he had experienced only once before and that had been while in Kirkwall… With Hawke.

Fenris cursed himself everyday for leaving Hawke's side and not following her to Weisshaupt Fortress. But if he stayed by the Warden's side, committed himself to her cause, as futile as it seemed, then maybe he could redeem himself... If for no-one else, then for him.

They shared similar traits, at least from Fenris' perspective. They knew when it was time for words and when it was time to act. He had met Hawke under false pretenses, but had met her acting under her emotions regardless. Elanda had been looking for a murderer, and didn't seem surprised that she would find someone who had been a former slave. Instead of looking to kill him, she asked him to join the Lucerni.

They wanted to reform Tevinter and instead of waiting for it to happen- the Lucerni took it upon themselves. It was an admirable goal and he saw no reason to object.

In fact, Fenris began to see himself as a valuable member since he knew some of the inner workings of the Qunari. He knew that Elanda would need his knowledge during her campaign to 're-birth' Tevinter.

But for now, they were relishing in the small victory. Because somewhere else, someone was plotting to take it back.

 

* * *

 

"I believe your friends sent a letter for you."

Aria raised her dark eyebrow at Rivella, her Rivaini... Companion, taking in her form once again.

The Rivaini wore a black short sleeved tunic that had a typical Tevinter low cut, and was embellished with gold embroidery with red beads. Rivella also wore enough bracelets and anklets to have a musical walk, especially with her fabric belt that had thin silver circles dangling from her hip. All of which accented a short black skirt and tanned skin that held a glow from the gracious amount of Tevinter sun that Rivella had been exposed to.

"'Friends'." Aria scoffed with a roll of her eyes, "As if I have any."

Rivella handed over the sealed letter which Aria turned over in her hand, examining the wax emblem with a slight frown.

_Calpernia._

The Magister's eyes narrowed at the wax emblem as if it offended her before she even opened it. What could be so damn important? Calpernia knew that Aria was not to be disturbed before the meeting at Minrathous.

Aria split the seal with her onyx dragon claw ring, opening the letter and started to read the scrawl of Calpernia's attempt at neat handwriting.

_To Magister Aria Yvette Levine, -_

Aria scowled. She hated it when others used her full name, as if it emphasized any power. Only she had that right.

But it didn't work the other way around because no-one had power over her.

However that didn't seem to stop Calpernia from trying to demand that Aria be called to action for the Lucerni. It wasn't so blatant in tone as it was in words that someone was questioning Aria's loyalty.

"Wrinkles don't suit you, Aria."

The Magister held up a single finger, indicating her need of silence while she finishes the letter.

There was no mention of the assassin or of the Warden- it made Aria's eyebrow raise. What did that mean? Did the assassin fail? Did the Warden die while the assassin was killed? What did Maevaris want to hide? Or Dorian for that matter? Both of them were pariahs in their own way... But perhaps they didn't want it to be known that an assassin breached their walls- in any fashion. It was an interesting note, one Aria would have to investigate later.

Calpernia mentioned and detailed the gruesome death of Valdis Matthias' son, which would no doubt cause some interesting waves through the ranks of any competent Magister. There were rumors however that the Matthias family were tied to slavers, a fact that this letter affirmed.

Eldon however, was a fool. Playing with a magic he certainly didn't understand, and naturally paid the price for it, as he'd been killed after his attempt to use blood magic.

Aria had no doubt that Calpernia planted that information for Aria's curiosity and the need to eliminate the Matthias family for her own goal.

Which would in turn, help further the goal of the Lucerni.

Because it always did.

Aria tosses the letter on the dark wooden desk with a dismissive scoff.

"They send a letter questioning my loyalty." Aria tapped the desk with her claw, "After everything I've done for them..." Aria sneered mostly to herself, "I am... Appalled at their audacity."

This is why she didn't have friends. Because in the end it wouldn't matter. Her efforts for the Lucerni would mean nothing when Tevinter was 're-made'. Aria was the example of what Tevinter shouldn't be. They were just using her. Everyone just plays parts.

But little did they know that she was concocting bigger plans. If there were changes to be made in Tevinter, her plans would make those changes concrete.

Aria took the moment to seethe in the matching dark wood chair, her hands tightening around the arms, palms on top of the carved wooden heads of dragons.

Rivella stands against the far wall while considering her 'friend' as the magister simmers in her rage. With a soft sigh falling from her lips the Rivani woman shifts from one bare foot to the other, folding her arms under her breast. The movement makes a melodious jingle in the room; bracelets, anklets, silver, and bronze cut through the silence as she finally speaks.

"So what will you do?"

There's a tap of annoyance on the top of one of the dragon heads as Aria sits back in her seat, "They have offended me, Somniari." Aria starts off, "But for now they are needed."

After all, why throw away a perfectly good tool?

Aria needed a moment to plan, to think... And Rivella may be one of the two she took to bed, but the Rivaini seer was hardly a confidant.

Aria didn't trust anyone, and so, kept a few things from her.

"Nothing will change." Aria leaned back further, propping an elbow against the arm, "But I will need to speak to Asar. He will want to know what became of his _precious_ apprentice."

 Aria's gaze looked over the Rivaini with a hungry glare, "The party at Minrathous is a month away, Somniari. Wear something I can show you off in."


	16. Afternoon Tea

Aria relaxed in the tea room while she waited for her father. If she wasn’t so involved in her family’s political standing, she would have to be waiting a few days for the notice to travel to Asariel and a few days more for her father’s return. As it was, her mother and father were already in the city of Carastes.

Turning the Levine family into one of the most powerful standing families was by no means easy, but she did have a head start. Her father being one of Tevinter’s best Commanders for their magical military force, and her mother was once an Enchanter at the Circle of Minrathous. 

Their political achievements were hers. It was a simple thing really, place her mother at Lady Avanti’s party to entice Lady Avanti herself into an ‘alliance’ and to entice Magister Farumand’s son to attend a gala to meet her father. 

All the while Aria took hold of her father’s position within the Magisterium. This wasn’t quite where she thought she would be. But it was hard to believe otherwise when she was sipping a dark purple tea through the finest porcelain imported from Antiva while being one of the youngest members in the Magisterium court to date. 

She leaned back in the cushioned chair and gazed out of the window. There was an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach that wasn’t physical as it was emotional. Aria frowned, now looking into the porcelain cup as if the liquid would make it go away. 

But how could it? It was tea, not wine. 

There was a moment of silence where she sipped her tea and closed her eyes, savoring the sweet flavor only opening them at the dramatic sound of the doors opening; Asar had finally arrived. 

If Asar Levine gave any of his traits to Aria, it would have been the agate pair of eyes and the dark sepia skin. 

Asar stood tall, like she would expect of any Commander. Even when he wasn’t in the midst of battle and no longer in command of anything. Including his political movements. 

“How good of you to join me.” She motioned for her father to sit in the chair across from her, which he did- though not without a dour expression. 

“Tea?” She blinked expectantly at him, thought it was clear by his stiff posture and expression that he would not be partaking in any of the pleasantries that Aria offered. 

Not even bothering to hide his disgusted glance at Rivella as she refilled Aria’s tea. 

“Very well.” Aria nodded at his silence, and placed the cup on the saucer that she held in her lap, “It has come to my attention that your apprentice Eldon Matthias is dead.” 

Asar’s expression didn’t change, and she gave a quiet chuckle and an understanding smile. 

“You think I killed him.” She placed the cup and saucer on the table in front of her, “As much as I would have liked to put him down myself, it would undermine everything I’ve tried to build with his family.” 

‘Build’ being a false word. She had been working on the Matthias family for months now, patiently waiting and suffering through boring parties while Eldon attempted to be clever and coyly insult Aria. 

“But since I didn’t, you can wipe away that awful look on your face.” She raised an eyebrow, “After all, you are having afternoon tea with your only child.” 

She crossed her legs as she leaned back into the chair, propping an elbow on the arm and rested her chin on her fist. It was a passive-aggressive show of dominance; she could afford to look relaxed in front of Asar because she held the power and had the higher standing. 

“Now that you’re here, however. I wanted to discuss something with you.” 

Asar’s eyes narrowed at his daughter. She knew he hated the political scheming of the Imperium. At one point in his life, he had enjoyed it, but now he found it exhausting. One never left the political scene, not even when you were dead. Aria would keep him a pawn in life and in death. 

And the thought was not at all comforting. 

Aria held a calm expression, but she readjusted to sit taller in the chair as she saw a look of reluctant submission cross his face. 

“Valdis will invite you to Eldon’s funeral. I want you to reconcile with your enemy. Extend our hand and offer to stand by them in their grieving.” 

A moment of pause, for Aria it was dramatic effect and to see her father’s eyes trying to find some excuse to why he shouldn’t do this. 

“I will be there for the service.” She continued, “As a show of good faith.” 

Asar looked over his daughter with a questionable expression. Aria only attended two funerals her entire life: Valeria, her grandmother, patron and mentor- which after her death, Aria had closed herself off for days... And the funeral of Felix Alexius… After which she had fled to Rivain.

When she came back, any light that might have been, was gone. 

“I want this alliance between our families to happen.” She modulated, in perfect control of her facial expression and her body language, but felt the unpleasant emotion in her stomach squirm, “Eldon made it impossible.” There was a sweeping motion she made with her hands, “But now we can move forward and continue to build a bridge between our families.” 

Felix’s words coming straight from her. 

Aria glanced at the tea once more. She knew it made her nostalgic- not that she told anyone. So why did she continue drinking it? 

Silly question of course. She knew why. 

“Aria…” 

She picked up the porcelain saucer and cup with a flawless motion, “Hopefully Valdis does not spit our kindness back in our faces… That family is known for such behavior.” She looked at her father, “Give him my best.” 

“I will make plans to leave immediately.” 

Aria nodded, “Do that, please. Let me know when we depart for his estate.” 

Asar stood up and gave a polite but curt bow to Aria and straightened his robes before exiting the room entirely. Leaving Aria and Rivella in the room. 

Everything would go according to plan. 

“Somniari.” Aria called, still looking at the doors and didn’t continue until Rivella had walked beside her once again, “I will arrange for you to travel to the Matthias estate immediately.. Console Magister Valdis through his grief… And encourage his violent wants towards my family. If Asar thought I killed Eldon, then I have no doubt Valdis thinks the same…” 

There was a cold chuckle, “Truly, this will be too easy… Asar and I are to be ‘assassinated’ at his son’s funeral service.” The only fool who would be killed would be Valdis himself, “And pet,” She turned her head in Rivella’s direction, but still didn’t look at her, “Do try to make it look convincing. Don’t squander your chance to kill me.” 

Despite messing with another flower arrangement that will be placed in the manor, Rivella is quick to stand and return to Aria's side once called.

She had been expecting this. Ever since Eldon was killed Aria knew she could use the family to her advantage, and in turn Rivella as well.

"Assassinated?" She hadn't been told about this, or the fact she would try to be the one to convince Valdis to kill her. "You will be safe though... Right?" There is worry on her face, but she knows Aria already has a plan and will come out unscathed. However that doesn't make her concern lessen in the slightest.

"Expecting a trap is the first step to turning it to your advantage." Aria smirks, but it's softened in a way at Rivella's concern for the Magister, “I’ve been expecting traps my whole life. It’s how I always have the advantage.” Aria waved her hand, as if shooing the Rivaini away, “Your concern is adorable, but unneeded. You will need to start packing soon. The carriage will be here at dusk and you leave as soon as it arrives.” There was a pause, “There will be a reward when this is all over, pet. You can be sure of that.” 

"That's... not very comforting.." The woman replies softly, folding her arms under her chest as the Magister waves dismissively at her concern. She relents with a heavy sigh however, and heads toward the door even as Aria mentions a reward. 

"I am not interested in currency..." She reminds the woman softly, looking over her shoulder for a moment as she reaches for the door handle, a smirk playing on her lips.

There’s a sultry chuckle, “You’re assuming all rewards are silver and gold. Now go.” The Magister takes a brief moment to relax in the cushioned chair, “Time is of the essence.” 

She brought the small porcelain cup to her lips and took another sip, gazing out of the large window, she had other thoughts on her mind as the gentle jingles of the Rivaini disappeared beyond the great wooden doors that lead into the tea room, but pushed the intrusive and emotional thoughts to the side. 

There was still more work to be done. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rivella is a character that belongs to the talented constellatedstories (you should go check her out!)


	17. I Opened My Eyes and the Nightmare Was Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I wanted to take this brief moment to apologize my absence. I've been dealing with a lot of issues and stress, but things have worked out for the better. Also; for those of you who comment: Thank you so much, I cannot tell you how amazing it is to receive these little treasures you bestow upon me. You guys are the ones that give me inspiration to write, thank you so much!**

It was so loud and so pretty. This song filling the inside of her brain, along with a great deal of pain and numbness. She couldn't think straight, but sweet Maker she was in so much pain all she could think to do was eat.

She saw his caramel eyes and she could see that he too was experiencing what she was. Her mouth moved to say something- but he lept at her, teeth bared and skin blackened. With an animalistic growl he ripped open her throat-

Elanda woke up with a start and drew her dagger from her pillow. Grey eyes wide with panic and fear, her muscles felt tight underneath the thin cotton tunic which had been doused with sweat.

As her vision adjusted she saw that no one was in the room, and when she looked to the window she saw the star speckled sky with the dragon constellation ominously looming overhead. Her breathing calmed, but she still had this fear gripping her stomach and weighing her down like an anvil.

Was that the fate she would have? Watching the madness over take him and morphing him into a ghoul?

_"Elanda..."_ Alistair tried to console her.

"No!" She tried shoving him away but her hands didn't connect with anything and when the dagger dropped to the floor, she curled her arms around herself trying to... To do something. Anything to get this overwhelming fear and doubt away from her mind.

Elanda tightened her arms around her body, tears steadily streaming down her face. His teeth felt so real, his eyes so full of pain... And madness.

She couldn't get the image out of her mind. Doubt was plaguing her every move, and even when her dreams were full of Darkspawn and the Archdemon, it was never... This.

She felt herself getting up and as she stood up she went to the wash room where she found a water bucket and retched in it. A metallic taste reigned over her heavy tongue, a cold stone in her stomach, cold sweat on her forehead and the trembles took over her form.

It was another long moment of retching and trembling before she had the energy to stand up with the assistance of the wall. She grit her teeth and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The moonlight glowed in the small window and she looked at her hand and her eyes widened.

Against her skin, there was a slimy thin grey film where she had wiped her mouth.

No.

No no no.

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

She stumbled back to the desk within the room and fumbled hurriedly with the quartz and the steel striker and desperately began to try to light the candle.

This could not be happening. This could not be-

_"Warden please, calm down-"_ Wynne's voice attempted to soothe her nerves.

"I can't." She mumbled and held in a victorious huff after it finally lit after a moment of fighting with it.

If it wasn't for fear of the flame going out she would have made a run for the washroom. As it was she placed the candle on the flat marble surface of the wash basin and looked in the bucket.

It... Smelled awful. It smelled like the Deep Roads and her stomach churned again, dry heaving into the bucket. It felt like her stomach was trying to come up through her throat.

_"How do you expect to fight the Blight if you are hunched over a bucket?"_ Morrigan chided.

The woman always knew how to push Elanda to get over her physical and emotional issues. Even as rude as Morrigan's comments could be.

_"Humans... Disgusting."_ Shale expressed with clear distaste.

Elanda let out a groan as she painfully hoisted herself off the bucket, once again using the wall and the edge of the wash basin as leverage. She was about to pull the water to wash her face when she caught a pale shape in the mirror.

Instinctively she went for the blade on her hip, but found the space empty. She turned around even though she didn't hear anything and once again, Elanda found that she was alone with nothing but the candle.

The Warden sighed and chalked it up to the fear of her nightmare. She ran a hand through her hair and looked back to the mirror. Black and red splotches covered her pale face, her dead grey eyes stared back at her blankly before her crimson stained lips curled into a hungry, malicious smile revealing pointed teeth stained in the same color as her lips.

"No!" Elanda shouted before bringing her fist into the mirror, shattering it on impact.

As she pulled her fist away, small mirror shards fell into the bowl of the wash basin, the blood dispersing into the cool water. When Elanda looked back up into the mirror, she saw herself, white as a sheet with fear. But she was other wise fine.

"Elanda!" Zevran shouted after Fenris barreled in the door, both of them with weapons branded.

Her fist began to sear and pulse with pain and she hissed pulling a piece out of her hand.

"I'm fine." She called to them, though Elanda knew that her new group of companions wouldn't leave her alone after this. She could already see that Zevran was trying to figure out her muddled mind.

She wished him luck, honestly. She could help other people solve their problems, but she couldn't solve her own... It was funny really.

"If you're fine, then why is your hand bleeding?" Dorian frowned, and stepped forward, using his magic to pick out the smaller pieces of the mirror.

"Just a condition of being a Warden." She winced as she felt the shard ease out of her skin, "It spikes every now and again." Her hand was healed, and she clenched and un-clenched her fist just to see if it was working properly. Merely out of habit.

"Regardless of what caused it." Her stern voice breaking through the momentary silence, "We have to start our travel to Carastes Circle. We can't wait anymore."

"It's the middle of the night-" Dorian began to argue.

"A perfect time to travel if you don't want to be spotted." Zevran leaned against the wall.

"Or if you want to be robbed." Fenris raised a white eyebrow in very minute disagreement.

"Thank you." Dorian motioned to Fenris before turning back to Elanda, "I realize none of us are helpless travelers, but we shouldn't be taking unnecessary risks."

Elanda frowned and looked to her companions; Fenris was ready to go, an expectant look on his face; Dorian was surprisingly ungroomed and looked like he wanted a few more hours of sleep; Zevran's posture was loose, his face decidedly neutral, but his eyes worried... Even after so much time being apart, Elanda could still tell when he was worried.

She had no doubt that Zevran would figure it out. After all, out of all of her current companions, Zevran knew her the best.

Which is how he knew to slide out of the door and prepare the horses. Once Elanda said they were leaving, that was it, there was no discussion and there was no talking her down from her decision. There was only one person who had a chance at derailing some of her decisions, but even if things did go according to Zevrans plan, Alistair wouldn't arrive in Tevinter for another two months.

But it gave Zevran time to observe Elanda, maybe give Alistair a bit more insight as to what's going on. Zevran couldn't leave her side- and he didn't want to.

"The horses are all taken care of." Zevran chirped into Elanda's room, "Saddled up and ready to ride out, whenever we are ready."

"Good." She nodded, already strapping on her greaves.

The others were no doubt in their respective rooms putting their own armor on.

Zevran however, due to his profession (and wanted status by the Crows) rarely took off his armor. Zevran had a feeling that if Elanda could sleep comfortably in her armor, she would. He had seen her fall asleep in it once due to pure exhaustion.

But her armor had a good shine to it. She had clearly been cleaning it, especially after the blood from the abomination. She was the very picture of what he had ever imagined a Grey Warden to be- and he knew that she had earned that picture.

He was surprised that her name and fame had not traveled to Tevinter. She couldn't walk down the streets of Denerim without getting mobbed for handshakes and thanks- even some sobbing.

But this was not Denerim and she was very far away from the comforts of home.

She strapped the Silverite chest plate into place and then finally her gauntlets. Her time alone had made her very efficient at putting her armor on.

A knock came at the door.

"Enter."

Fenris entered her room and he looked at the Warden for a moment. His expression contemplative.

Elanda paid no mind as she drew a whet stone from a leather pouch at her hip, coupled with a rag and a small vial and began to sharpen her sword.

"You two might want to do the same." She murmured, focused on her sword. Treating it as one would a newborn.

The sword had once been made of grey iron, and had once been quite beat up, no doubt used by the previous generations... Zevran remembered the day that it broke. It had been right after their ordeal at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. She had wanted a moment to herself and only Alistair had the courage to go try and say something to her after too much time had passed. When they approached the next town, Alistair snuck in her tent took the broken pommel while Zevran, Leliana and Wynne distracted her for the day, and used most of the funds that Elanda had given him to put a silverite blade on the otherwise bladeless sword.

What Zevran never told Alistair is that he put a few sovreigns in his pouch when he wasn't looking.

And as long as Zevran had known her, he could see that she still carried the weight of her family's death with her, but the anger that she tapped into now, was that she could never have a family or a proper life with the love of her life.

"Anticipating a trap on the road?" Zevran teased with a chuckle, but took a seat across from her, brandishing his own daggers and whetstone.

"We're in Tevinter." Fenris scowled, "Anything can and will go wrong."

"Aren't you just a glass half full?" Zevran grinned at him, hearing Elanda chuckle with a slight shake of her head.

"We need to be prepared." Elanda intervened, "A sharp sword helps. One of the last things you want is your sword stuck in the skull of a Darkspawn." There was a chuckle that left her lips, as if remembering an incident that went exactly like that.

"And tell me again why you didn't sharpen your sword the previous night?" Zevran wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Elanda rolled her eyes, but otherwise didn't bat an eyelash or blush. Not that Fenris expected her to, but it became clear to him that not much could get under her skin... And yet how she fought in battle... Was almost very similar to him. His outward calm was just a show, no doubt a product of his life as a slave... Something even Hawke couldn't make him let go of.

"It... Occurs to me that I don't know how to sharpen a sword." Fenris murmured, watching Elanda and Zevran intently.

They both looked up and he could see the barest smile on Elanda's face and she motioned for him to sit.

"You seem to learn by watching, so just watch me and then I'll walk you through it on your own." Elanda spoke before making the obvious movements of wiping the sword off first and then pouring the thinnest layer of oil over the whetstone before bringing down on the edge of the sword starting from the base of the hilt and going to the point in a single smooth motion.

She did this motion twice for one edge, then the other side. Elanda wiped the sword down with the rag again, cleaning off the oil before turning her sword over and doing the same thing.

"And that's it." She shrugged, giving the supplies over to Fenris.

Fenris looked at the supplies in his hands and then back to the sword in his lap. With cautious movements he wiped down his sword, getting a good close look at it now. Fenris had kept this blade since he stepped foot in Kirkwall. He didn't notice the wear and tear the hilt had, the leather had worn away nearly giving way to the metal underneath. And that wasn't to mention all of the scratches and aged look of the blade.

He had killed a bandit, and took the sword- didn't even bother looking at it. But now, while he was having to focus on the sword he saw how the years have effected it. Would he need a new one? When? Could he repair this one? How much would that cost?

His frowned deepened, but he took the whetstone and the oil and tried his best to keep a steady hand. It worked out well. More of Danarius' training, no doubt. But both Elanda and Hawke showed that he could turn that training to things he could do himself for himself.

By the time Fenris had been done sharpening his sword, Elanda had a book opened, reading whatever contents it held with a determined expression. Fenris could see the bags of sleeplessness under her eyes, but all of the focus she needed was there. From what Fenris had heard, Elanda had been searching for this cure for ten years.

And she was waiting for a Tevinter Mage- a Magister to ready himself.

Fenris thought that Dorian didn't respect Elanda's cause and would take it up with the Magister on the way to their destination. He had made the decision that Elanda didn't need to surround herself with those who didn't respect her or her cause.

"Alright. I have routed our path and readied myself for the days travel." Dorian announced as he entered the room.

Elanda shut her book and strapped her sword to her hip and shield to her back. There was the distinctive sound of Zevran sheathing his daggers in their respective places, and Fenris had handed Elanda the whet stone, oil, and rag in a compacted bundle.

"Thank you... I had never done that before." He admitted to the Warden who had a proud expression and took the bundle from him.

"Until today." She corrected, and put the bundle in a leather pouch along her belt, "You did good, Fenris. It should cut through most anything that comes our way."

Elanda looked at all of her companions... A Magister, a previous Antivan Crow, a fugitive... It yanked at her heart and made her miss everyone.

Even Morrigan.

_"Softie."_ Leliana chimed again with a laugh.

Elanda held a sad smile and grabbed her helmet from the table. "We have a way to go... Best get a move on." And she walked out of her door and to the stables, the others following behind her, all but Zevran wearing a slightly confused look.

Exiting the stables of the Pavus Estate was easy enough... But it was a surprise when Fenris stopped them, making his horse stop and he walked in front of Elanda for a moment, his green eyes shifting from one direction to the other.

He could smell the magic that had been casted. It wasn't lightning, or fire, or ice. It was hard to tell with Qarinus constantly smelling strongly of salt water. But he looked down and saw the writing on the ground.

A hum of thought escaped the Warden as she walked forward, leaving her horses reigns in the hands of Zevran. She kneeled down with surprising ease in her Silverite armor and examined the writing up close.

_"Tis a summoning circle."_ Morrigan informed, _"Though I am unsure what they want to summon... It seems a very peculiar location for such a thing."_

_"I don't know. I don't trust Tevinter. Blood magic at every corner, sacrifices... You know, the works."_

_"Is that what your precious religious teachings told you? It's a wonder you've gotten this far."_

_"I don't like the placement either, Warden, it seems almost... Too random."_ Wynne agreed with Morrigan's statement about the location, _"There has to be some meaning behind it."_

Elanda frowned at that. Though of course she knew that her mind was drawing on Elanda's knowledge of Morrigan's own arcane knowledge.

Which was very little. Elanda had never asked Morrigan about magic that she was unsure of, but if Morrigan were here, that's who she would ask.

Especially since Wynne couldn't be around.

"It's a-"

"Summoning circle, yeah." Elanda interrupted Dorian without a thought. There was a frown on her face as she brought her hand over the writing, waiting for a reaction from the magic.

Fenris's eyes followed the curve of the seal with a frown. He had no idea that mages could do magic long range, and this certainly didn't help his outlook on mages. They were about to discuss something further about the circle until Elanda's reaction was to draw her sword and her shield, though nothing happened.

Until a phantasmic hooded figure walked towards her, from an edge of the seal and stopped a foot in front of her. "We're coming for you, Warden Elanda Cousland."

The phantom raised its hand and extended a flat palm out towards her, the hand beginning to glow. Elanda raised her shield to block the magic, but when nothing came she lowered her shield in surprise.

"Making friends are we?" Dorian lowered his staff as it slowly dimmed from its bright purple glow to a normal icy pulse.

"Always." She looks warily at the seal on the ground to his staff and then back to him.

"If you're wondering," Dorian started out, putting his staff on his back once again, "I used the magical signature from the seal to send a pulse to the Mage behind the magic." He tapped his chin thoughtfully, "It disrupted the mages concentration, which stopped the magic. But who wants you dead now?"

"That list is long, Dorian." Elanda shrugged, still cautious as she put her shield away on her back and sword back at her side, "And it seems to only be getting longer." With one hand she gripped the horn of the saddle and put her foot in the stirrup, hoisting herself onto the seat, "If things run naturally then they won't have to worry much longer."

The dark subject change made the men look at each-other in unison, all sharing the same uncomfortable look at her nonchalant comment. Without another word, they followed Elanda's example and made their way to Carastes.


	18. Don't Get Too Comfortable

Elanda rode in front, occasionally referring to Dorian's directions before continuing.

But now was the time to talk to the Magister. Fenris was not going to sit by and let someone disrespect the Warden so blatantly.

"What's in it for you?" Fenris scowled in Dorian's direction, "No Magister helps without some personal benefit."

Dorian sighed, as if he'd been expecting this, "I want what's best for my homeland," he explained, "She is putting her effort into helping me  
without any personal benefit, I thought it would be only right to help her with her quest..."

"And yet you sound doubtful." Fenris pressed with a frown.

"With good reason." Dorian pressed his lips together, "I'm going to do everything I can, but Grey Wardens have a connection to the Darkspawn, it  
gives them the ability to sense them and to kill an Archdemon... But it's also a death sentence."

Fenris' eyes went from Dorian to Elanda. He had heard stories about the Grey Wardens, who in Thedas hadn't? He knew that Grey Wardens sacrificed  
themselves to kill an Archdemon, but he didn't know that being a Grey Warden was a death sentence.

His mind absently floated to Anders. Would he give in to his death? Or would he fight for every inch?

But also the legend of the Hero of Ferelden came to his mind. She had survived, but how? Through some means of magic? Had Elanda tried  
contacting the Hero of Ferelden? If she could, maybe the Hero of Ferelden could shed some light on how she survived her encounter with the  
Archdemon. It might lead to something about curing the Blight.

But someone as resourceful as Elanda must have done so already.

Which is why Fenris kept his mouth shut about that subject.

"Since it is a death sentence perhaps you should show your respect."

Dorian blinked at him, Fenris was acting just like Blackwall- Rainier once had. Except the Inquisition gave both Dorian and Rainier front row  
seats to the lives of the other. With time they were able to put their obvious differences aside and properly fight for a common cause together  
instead of picking at each-other.

"I'm only going to say this once, so let me be clear: I am here out of respect." Dorian was only going to explain this once- even when he knew  
he didn't have to. But he wanted to be perfectly transparent with his comrades, even if they didn't trust him right away.

Given Tevinter's history, and history of Magisters, anyone who did trust him immediately was trying to kill him.

Fenris huffed in disbelief but without a word more continued riding forward.

 _"That hooded figure worries me."_ Wynne spoke in Elanda's mind.

 _"We've been against crazy people in dresses before."_ Oghren retorted, _"What's some more?"_

Elanda allowed an amused scoff escape her nose. He wasn't wrong. There had been many cults to come after her before, the most memorable being the Cult of Andraste. She had killed their dragon, who they believed had been Andraste reborn.

Then she killed most of their numbers and then their leader after taking a pinch of Andraste's ashes for Arl Eamon.

What makes these cultists any more dangerous then the previous ones?

 _"They know your name, Warden."_ Wynne chastised, _"That's dangerous enough. But what if they knew who you really were?"_

Elanda hummed in thought. If the Cult knew that she was the Hero of Ferelden and its Queen, then if they captured her, they would no doubt try  
to send Alistair some sort of threat with a finger or a piece of her. She doubted that now that she knew another cult was after her, she could  
take the appropriate measures to wipe them out.

_"You wouldn't."_

Elanda could almost feel Alistair's eyes narrow in her direction.

But of course getting captured was her only real option. She knew she wouldn't bother with infiltrating someone else and relying on them to take  
down the cult from the inside. No. They were after her. So that's what she would give them.

Until her inevitable escape, anyways. Elanda had escaped Fort Drakon, anyways- not to mention a lifetime of other horrible scenarios.

Out of her companions, she was almost certain Fenris would be the most understanding. Elanda didn't need to decorate her words for him, but  
Dorian was going to take some convincing. However if she worded it as if it would be a victory for the Lucerni, then Dorian might have to  
concede... If she told him in the first place. Zevran, she absolutely knew, would refuse this plan.

So the decision was decided, she would tell Fenris... With the possibility of Calpernia. Ideally the less people who knew about this the better  
her plan would go. But now she just had to devise a plan on how to get captured.

 _"You cannot be serious!"_ Leliana exclaimed.

 _"You're not going to go through with this..."_ Alistair trailed off, _"Sweet Maker, Elanda, don't-"_

"Copper for your thoughts, dear Warden?" Zevran asked teasingly.

It made the voices in her head stop momentarily. Zevran noticed a quick change of expression going from pained but resolute to putting on her  
mask again.

"Just... Thinking." She looked at him and then looked back at Dorian and Fenris. Fenris held a frown in Dorian's direction until his green eyes  
met with Elanda's stormy grey hues. Fenris didn't like Dorian, that was obvious enough. But Dorian didn't seem bothered by the brooding elf.

"Care to share?" Zevran asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Maybe eventually." Elanda answered plainly when she heard the hurried hoof steps of a horse behind her.

Zevran didn't like the answer, but respected it none the less. She would open up to him in time, just as she always did.

"Might I suggest we stop?" Dorian asked, trotting up to her side, "We've been riding for hours and I'll be the first to admit that my ass could  
use a rest."

"I am rather famished, myself." Zevran interjected and Dorian threw him an appreciative expression.

Elanda stopped and sighed, "Very well... Fenris, I'm going to scout ahead while these two take their rest."

"Is that wise?" Fenris trotted to her, "You are a wanted woman and cannot accomplish your goal if you are dead."

Zevran was glad that someone else was pointing out obvious things to her, though he knew she wouldn't listen. Not to any of them anyways. And he  
just had to accept that it was always going to be that way.

"Would you wish to accompany me?" She asked with a raised eyebrow, but a challenging tone of voice.

"I know I would be most appreciative." Dorian interjected again, "Or we will have traveled all this way just to get you killed."

"And I would be out of a job." Zevran added, "Maevaris would be most upset at me for just letting you die by yourself."

Elanda heard them, but her eyes were on Fenris. She wanted to show him that she valued his opinion just as much as the other two. If he didn't  
wish to accompany her, then she would have to stay with them until Zevran was finished eating at most.

However them going to scout ahead would be the perfect time to let Fenris know of her plan. But given his reaction to her going ahead to scout  
alone, he might see her plan to get grabbed by the cult as sheer lunacy.

She decided that moment not to tell him. She had been doing just fine by herself for almost a decade. Elanda didn't feel that there was a need  
for change just because she had companions again.

Fenris gave a hum of thought to her question before, manuevering off the saddle, walking his horse next to Zevran's and turning to Elanda, "I  
will accompany you. But I will walk."

From his first few movements, Elanda thought he was going to sit with Zevran and Dorian, despite his dislike for the Magister, so she followed  
his movements, getting off her saddle, walking the horse next to his... But was surprised by his words. She gave an appreciative nod and slid on  
her helmet.

"Don't rush on our accounts." Dorian teased, taking a seat next to Zevran as the Antivan began to pull food from the leather satchel that once  
resided on the horse.

"Don't get too comfortable." Elanda chuckled with a roll of her eyes, though she meant it. They would have to ride fast in order to make up for  
lost time. They left in the dead of night after Elanda's nightmare, though she still had not said a word to the others about it. They wouldn't  
understand how little time she actually had left.

"Do you have a plan?" Dorian asked as soon as Elanda and Fenris were far enough away, "Whatever you were suspecting is happening to her... Is  
getting worse."

Zevran's expression damped and he looked at the Warden's back as she walked further away with Fenris at her side, "I know... And I know when to  
admit defeat. But the matter of the fact is," the Antivan shrugged, "The one she needs isn't going to be here for another two months."

"There's not a chance you'll tell me, is there?"

"Oh, I'm sure he'll make a big scene all on his own. Being away from his wife for a decade? You need not worry, my dear Tevinter friend." Zevran  
chuckled, "You'll know him when you see him."

"Are you always this cryptic?"

Zevran grinned and bit into an apple, "When I need to be."

 

* * *

 

"Do you have a plan?" Fenris asked as they walked steadily along the road, further away from their companions.

"Getting the cure and going home isn't enough of a plan?" She was joking, of course. She didn't really have a plan beyond that. But it was a  
more complicated issue then just 'getting' the cure.

What did this mean for Jory? Or Daveth? Or for everyone who had been saved from the hangman's noose? What would happen when she did find the  
cure? The First Warden was already pissed at her to begin with. There was a schism already developing within the ranks... And with the Anderfels  
beginning to... Become tense, could she really force this upon them? The knowledge of a cure?

Elanda remembered Alistair's smile, his laugh, the way his eyes would widen with embarrassment, his face reddening when Wynne teased him... She  
held all of him as close as she could while being far away.

She couldn't go home. Not when the nightmare of the morning had been so clear... The song was loud and as much as she tried to block it out, she  
knew what her fate would be. What his fate would be.

And that couldn't happen.

"I find it hard to believe your plan is that simple." Fenris commented with a raised eyebrow in her direction.

"All of my plans are simple. But the tedious steps to get there might not be."

"Like going to a Tevinter Circle?"

Elanda chuckled dryly, "Yeah. Like that."

"With cultists after you, is it wise to go into a Circle? You would be entering a pit of vipers."

"Then we would do well not to get bit."

Fenris frowned, but there was no talking Elanda out of this adventure. He was going to do all he could to see that none of them 'got bit', but  
he knew especially well what they were getting into.

There was a long interim of silence before the pair realized that the sun had come up.

She could feel the sting of sleep in her eyes, but she had committed herself to this journey to the circle. Elanda had to see this through. She  
could sleep when they arrived.

They began to walk back when the pair found Dorian and Zevran walking towards them, reigns in hand and horses walking next to them.

"You were taking so long we decided to take the initiative." Dorian chuckled, "Besides, the horses seem just as eager to move as you do."

Elanda smiled, gripping the horn of the saddle and hoisting herself up, "Good. Then we best be off again... Dorian, which way?"

"We've come to a point where all we have to do is follow signs."

Elanda grinned, and with a firm kick, she was galloping at full speed. There was time to make up.

 

* * *

 

"So do mages study at circles here in Tevinter?" Zevran asked when the silence had continued for too long.

"Of course!" Dorian responded, almost too happy to talk about it, "Though circles everywhere outside of Tevinter are abysmal prisons... Excuse  
me- were prisons. And will continue to be so if Vivienne has her way..." He sighed.

"Circles are made to keep people safe." Fenris argued, "If the Magisters in charge would abandon their selfish indulges they might see that."

"Locking people in cages," Dorian interjected loudly, "Isn't the answer."

"And so we'll have more abominations like your friend Matthias? That is your answer?"

Elanda sighed. She agreed with Dorian whole-heartedly. As did Zevran. But during her travels she had seen all sides of the extreme. It was  
always sad when the few voices of the extreme were always the loudest.

Most mages just want to use their magic to grow crops, and protect their families. Well... If they could be allowed to have families.

Traveling through the day was grueling, but they persisted, much to Dorian's very occasional complaint. But Elanda was much like a Mabari, once  
she got hold of an idea, not even the Maker would make her let go. It was in the early night, just after the sun has set that they began to see  
the circle.

"That, is what your circles look like?" Zevran asked, almost in wonder.

Elanda had been only slightly intimidated by the building while Dorian responded to Zevran. Dorian explained that when the Old Gods were  
replaced by the belief in the Maker, they changed the temples into Circles that were prestigious acadamies.

Elanda could definitely see it, the extended dragon wings, some of the details of the dragons face were lost to time, but she could make out the  
large teeth and the long snout from the shortening distance.

Denerim smelled of blood and fire. She remembered the citizens screaming, and the guards doing their best to evacuate and fend off the Darkspawn  
in the town square.

_"I can't let you do this- you can't make me break my promise!"_

_"Alistair, you don't have a choice! You are Ferelden's King."_

_"And you're my wife. If we can't stand together now-"_

She remembered punching him hard enough to knock him down and going to deal with the Archdemon herself. Elanda was horrified to see him appear at the battle anyways, but they fought the Archdemon together.

That didn't stop Alistair from still being sore about it. Part of him understood and she knew that. But a part of him will always wonder about the grim possibility...

"We walk from here." Dorian announced, bringing Elanda out of memories.

Whichever dragon temple this had once been, it wasn't Urthemiel. Elanda could spot the bigger differences inside where the carvings were in a  
better state then the ones outside.

"This is most irregular, Magister Pavus-"

"Yes, First Enchanter, I know. But it can't be helped." Dorian argued with the Magister who lead this circle- one that Dorian couldn't recall  
the name of immediately, "When you have a guest as prestigious as a Grey Warden, things become most irregular."

There was a contemplative look from the First Enchanter. He looked at Elanda up and down, he didn't have to see the griffon on her chest plate  
to see she was a Warden. Most Wardens held a certain... Air to them. What was a Grey Warden doing in Tevinter? In the middle of the night, no  
less?

"Right this way, Magister Pavus." He bowed, sweeping his hand in an enter motion, beckoning the group inside.

Fenris scowled at the looks both he and Zevran received. He had no doubt that they though the two of them were Dorian's slaves. The thought of  
being owned again sickened his stomach and made his blood bubble with rage. His thoughts were interrupted by Zevran chuckling lowly next to him.

"What?" Fenris growled.

"Oh nothing." Zevran grinned cheekily and looked away, "You look like a child who was just handed a raisin cookie and expected chocolate."

"How I look is none of your concern."

"It's your face." Zevran rolled his eyes with a grin.

Fenris growled lowly- perhaps being around Zevran and Dorian would tire his patience more then he had originally thought. But he hoped they  
would be here for a short amount of time. He knew, though that Elanda wouldn't leave until she got what she was looking for.

"This is where you will be staying, Master Pavus... Do you want your... Guests to be paired in the same room?"

It was clear that the First Enchanter spoke with distaste, and Dorian bristled, "They will have each of their own rooms and will be treated with  
the same respect I am given. Are we clear?"

The circle mage bowed his head reluctantly before showing the other three to their rooms. Zevran was put next to Dorian's room, Elanda was next,  
then Fenris. Maybe the First Enchanter could see the look on Fenris' face when he tried to put him next to Dorian's room, but being next to  
Elanda was tolerable, at least. The Mage they were traveling with had showed his dominance over the First Enchanter, and Fenris was left unsure  
whether fear was a trait he wanted to see in a Mage... Less so in a Tevinter Magister who lead a circle.

It didn't seem to matter that they were exhausted from Traveling, but they all slowly began to trickle in Elanda's room.

"What do you hope to find here?" Zevran asked, "Surely you've combed a few tomes at Dorian's most lovely estate..."

"You think Mages will part with precious knowledge?" Fenris scoffed, leaning against a wall, "Don't be absurd."

"As much as I hate to say it, you're right. Tevinter mages, or at least ones that aspire to 'greatness' will keep information if they think it's  
precious enough... And if they hear of your mission, Warden," Dorian made a small motion to Elanda, "Then they'll do anything to have you owe  
them a favor."

"Like we did to those drunks at the tavern." Elanda nodded, leaning back in a chair.

"To be fair, that was your idea." Dorian argued with a wry grin.

A chuckle came from the Warden, "You're not wrong."

 _"Technically it was my idea."_ Leliana piped in.

"Regardless... We rode hard tonight. We need some alone time and rest... We'll convene again in the morning."

Elanda's word was final. Zevran didn't have to like it, but given the look by Dorian, neither did he.

"Elanda you're a-"

"Dorian." Her tone was stern and she stood up, beginning to take her shield off, then her belt. Zevran was noting that she was making more noise  
than she probably needed to. So what was her plan?

But that quieted the mage. Dorian knew better than to not say the rest of the sentence anyways, concern was the only thing that made him  
blurt out the beginning anyways. But Elanda was a capable warrior. She could fend off a would-be assassin.

"Goodnight, gentlemen."


	19. Full of Loathing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave me a lot of problems, which is why it took a week longer than expected.   
> But now, back to your regularly scheduled program!

"She's here."

"You know what happens when people lie to me."

There was no hesitation in the first speaker's response, "We made contact with her two days ago. She didn't seem surprised that we would seek her out."

"No, I would imagine not. It would take Urthemiel's rebirth to surprise the 'Warden-Queen'."

There was a moment of thoughtful silence between the two men before continuation.

"If she's as smart or strong as she's rumored to be, then your show has put her guard up. We will have to be careful and patient for the time being. Our plans with Archon Radonis have almost come to fruition and we can't have those interrupted." He leaned back against the red velvet of the Chantry booth, one generally meant for confession, "Aria Levine is building something that could undermine us entirely, we must keep an eye on her."

"But what of Dorian Pavus? He's more of a threat than his father ever was."

"They're both native Tevinter Magisters, of course they're crafty." He took a moment to gather his thoughts, but his companion didn't seem patient enough to wait.

"So you're saying that attacking them will be difficult?"

"Attacking, no. Eliminating, probably not as hard as you're thinking."

"What do you mean?"

"There's a rumor that Aria was the one who kill Eldon Matthias. Whether or not the rumor is true, doesn't really matter. But I do know that she's attending his service."

"To what end?" His companion asked in disbelief, "She hasn't been to a service since Gereon Alexius' son died."

"She's hoping to restore some manner of peace between her family and what's left of the Matthias family. It couldn't be a more perfect time to strike."

"How would you suggest eliminating her?"

"If her goal is to restore peace, I think we should take that away from her."

His companion was slowly beginning to piece things together, "So send someone in, tell Valdis that she won't be there for the service, but to end his family line and ruin his legacy?"

"There's nothing that would be cherished more. When he realizes what she's up to, he'll do everything in his power to kill her."

There was a hum of agreement from his companion.

"For Cousland," He continued, "We will have to wait, as previously stated. Study our enemy and try to find a weakness... Everybody's got some form of weakness. We'll just have to find hers."

And she was a foe to wait for. She had survived Urthemiel's coming and his darkspawn army in Ferelden, making her a physically strong opponent, her survival of murdering their god was surrounded in mystery, which made her in some ways magically savvy, despite being a warrior from the magically repressive south, but her years at the Ferelden court had conditioned her to be a smart opponent.

Her sudden disappearance was troubling, as their order liked to keep tabs on their enemies, and some members presumed that after such a long absence from the world that the Warden-Queen was dead. But he knew better.

"Aria is the easiest of the targets," He reiterated, "We will focus on her first. The rest should fall into place, Urthemiel willing."

 

* * *

 

 

"You sent the Seer ahead?" Asar questioned Aria as she sipped her tea.

"As yet another show of good faith." Aria responded, "Everyone who has eyes knows I don't travel anywhere without my... Assistant."

"She's a whore, Aria."

"I believe I said 'assistant', father." She corrected, barely even flicking her gaze towards the man, "She knows my schedule, my future plans, my conflicts, how I like my tea prepared in the mornings... Seer Rivella Dawn Belmaria is my... Confidant."

There was nothing further from the truth. Rivella knew hints of Aria's overall plan for Tevinter, but did know how Aria liked her tea. But to say that she was the Tevene's confidant was a lie. But a lie that she had been building up by taking the Seer everywhere.

Aria could see her father's eyes attempting to sort out the truth from her lies. Aria learned at a very young age that her father could tell she was lying. But after her grandmother's tutelage and Aria's two visits to Rivain, he couldn't tell anymore. She had begun to mix kernels of truth in with her lies making them harder, or impossible to see through.

"I've told her to be honest with Magister Valdis Matthias and do whatever he requests of her."

That made Asar's finger twitch. Everyone knew how Valdis treated his slaves, especially his favorites, which were always the pretty ones- didn't matter the gender. So to have Aria send her 'assistant' and 'confidant' by herself to the Matthias estate... Was either a malevolent act or a large leap of faith on Aria's part.

His concern for someone he detested was adorable.

Though if Asar knew what Aria had done to the woman, he might be more concerned about Rivella when she was here with Aria behind closed doors.

"Have you received the invitation to the funeral yet?"

It was a rhetorical question, of course. He wouldn't until tomorrow or the day after. It took time to pen letters and even more so when they are to your enemies. However, since Rivella was convincing Valdis to kill the Levine family, Aria had no doubt he had to reign his excitement in.

He couldn't act too eager, with everything going on. Everyone who had ears knew of the feud between Aria and Eldon, not to mention the other feud between their fathers. The Levine family would be the last to receive letters. It was no surprise.

But it gave Aria time to pick out the perfect gift to offer her condolences.

"Father," Aria called, still not bothering to get up from her seat at the gaudy desk, "We are to extend our condolences and show our bleeding hearts... But keep up your guard." She laced her voice with concern, as she looked to her father, "People in this country often do strange things in their grief."

Asar made a soft chuckle and an even smaller smile, "Spoken like your grandmother."

Aria's gaze softened considerably, which made Asar give a gentle smile, and for just a moment he remembered the little girl who had not yet been corrupted by Tevinter's politics; the little girl who cried when they gave her a tiny painted dragon; and the little girl who respected dragons so much that she refused to wear anything that resembled dragon scales.

He remembered his -daughter-. Then his mind came to the sudden realization: Aria's grieving process was not yet over. She had chosen to dominate Tevinter's court rather than deal with her own loss. She picked up a Rivaini Seer and an Orlesian Reaver for bed mates instead of continuing her family line without the man she once loved.

"What is it?" She asked, her voice still soft, but her mind couldn't help but be suspicious of what her father was thinking. His change of gaze was noticeable, and she didn't like it at all.

"Nothing." He responded after a moment, "You're absolutely right." Asar nodded, "People in this country are strange in grief."

And without another word, he left Aria's office, closing the door behind, completely oblivious to the anger bubbling in Aria's chest.

Pity. It was pity that Asar had in his eyes and Aria didn't need any of it. It was a careful calculation, and a play on her father's heartstrings to 'expose' herself like that in front of him. But yet to act out in anger was to confirm that she had messed up in front of him. Instead, she took a sip of her tea with a frown.

She decided that nothing would change. Aria would continue to dismantle any threats against her. One by one they would be casted out, their credibility, rank... And some would even lose their lives. But such was the price to pay for someone else's ambitions.

And of course it would start with the Matthias family.

There was a small clink of porcelain on her desk and Aria looked to see one of the servants pouring her another cup of tea. Which once finished being poured, Aria took a sip.

And immediately placed it back down on the saucer.

"Is there something wrong, Miss?"

Aria's lips grew into a long frown, "It would be in your best interest to leave and take this tea with you."

"What's wrong-"

" _Get. Out._ " Aria growled, and watched as the servant hastily began to place all of the tea accessories on a small platter, "And if you _do_ come back, come back with wine."

The nervous servant nodded and quickly left, allowing Aria to place her elbow on the arm of the chair and rest her cheek against her balled fist in irritation, "It's so hard to find good help." Aria mumbled lowly to herself.

But it was time to go retrieve a gift for the grieving magister. Thankfully Bromwell had returned this morning, so she wouldn't be seen 'alone'. She had to keep up appearances... Besides, if word were to spread to Rivella that she was traveling around with Bromwell, the least the Seer could do was act hurt. Aria hummed softly as she looked over the various papers on her desk, letters from various other magisters pledging their allegiance to her, submitting to her various tactics of blackmail and threats. It was too easy.

The world belonged to her. That was the lesson that her grandmother had instilled, in her brain and after Felix's death, after she tried so hard to change, it's what she reverted to. It was comfortable, causing other people pain, by any means really. But Aria would never allow herself to be hurt that way again. She wasn't close to anyone and she was going to keep it like that.

"Maitresse." Bromwell's thick Orlesian accent rang as he bowed in a formal Tevene way, just as Aria had taught him when he first came to Tevinter.

"Good." She addressed his entrance, and got up out of her chair, her heeled boots clicking on the floor where there was no carpet, "I do believe it's time to go shopping. I have a funeral service to attend, and I need to acquire some condolence gifts."

"Gifts can wait," Bromwell chuckled, but closed the door behind him, "I heard about Eldon. Rumor has it, you killed him." He neared her with a growing smirk on his face, and a chuckle escaped her dark red lips, not missing a beat.

"And I might have. But what would be the benefit of gloating to you, Reaver?"

Today would take an unexpected turn, most certainly. Aria could see the blood lust growing in Bromwell's eyes, and she felt her own begin to grow. Of course when she felt her blood lust begin to grow, _normally_ , she would just break Rivella, treat her like the whore everyone thought her to be. But Rivella wasn't here now.

Instead, Bromwell would serve his purpose... Or one of the purposes that Aria had hired him for.

He quickly closed the distance between the two, lips quickly clashing, one wanting to overpower the other. Aria knew she couldn't beat the Orlesian in the physical department. Bromwell stood easily at six feet and four inches, so Aria, standing at five feet and seven inches definitely didn't have a chance. 

A point he made sure to reiterate as he grabbed her hips with his hands and lifted her on her own desk. But Aria had wit- and an onyx claw that gripped into the shoulder of his tunic. A growl left his lips as the fabric tore and he shoved the woman's back on the desk, a few of the pointless items on her desk falling to the floor.

Of course Bromwell knew the ins and outs of Aria's wardrobe. Which dresses had clasps, what strings to pull. He had made the mistake of ripping a dress the first time, and made sure to never do it again.

Once news had traveled that Eldon Matthias had been killed by Aria, he'd been wanting to see the woman in person to satisfy his curiosity, but once he saw the woman it was hard to keep his hands off her wonderfully tanned body. The reaver pulled on the strings and the lower part of her dress became loose enough to bunch the fabric just above her waist. Her long legs were nearly impossible to resist, evident by the way he felt up her legs and pulled her closer after his hands clung to her hips in some attempt to meet his.

Aria wore a smirk as she looked up at Bromwell from the desk, "You're impatient." A teasing observation.

Bromwell's blue eyes snapped to her agate orbs and returned the smirk with a harsh grip on her thighs, "When I know what I want, I take it."

A dark chuckle came from the nearly naked Tevene, "I know." She purred, "It's a trait we share..."

And it was true. The Reaver and Aria shared quite a bit in common, but Aria only surrounded her immediate vicinity with those who were like minded.

The Reaver smirks and closes the gap, slating his lips over hers in a heated kiss while one hand dips down to the apex of her thighs and presses against the cloth, feeling dampness against his fingers.

"It seems that you are as well, Maitresse..." He chuckles.

It must be her blood magic abilities but she can feel his blood growing hotter, heart beating faster, and the way his breathing changes. Like an animal before the hunt.

"What did you say earlier?" She smirked, "'When I know what I want, I take it'?" Aria sits up, her legs wrapped around his waist and pulling him closer, a heated kiss that seems to get more carnal as their fight for dominance continues. Aria's hands curl on his back and a grin pulls at her lips as she digs a claw into his tunic, tearing it again, but this time cutting into skin as well.

She pulls at his bottom lip with her teeth when he pulls away with a hiss and a growl.

"But to get what I want," She continues, "I have to make you bleed."

Aria was certainly a strange one, but Bromwell wasn't one to judge. She was beauiful, powerful (in both magic and influence), and he believed that she was going to one day rule Tevinter, if not the world. She didn't pay him to believe that, she paid him to play bodyguard, though they both knew she didn't need one. But this? She wasn't paying him to satisfy her carnal cravings.

This was long time coming. There was no love between them, that much was obvious, but they shared an animal attraction since they first locked eyes. His blue eyes looked into her agate hues and a smirk grew on his face with every thrust into her form, until his back started to sting. He was dealing with a blood mage and she was using his blood against him.

Well, he was a Reaver. He could play this game. Bromwell picked her up, pinned Aria against the bookshelf and he continued to thrust into her, books falling off of the shelves until they both got a better grip.

Once it was clear they were both satisfied, and had finished with Aria on top of Bromwell laying on the carpet of her office. There was no disturbance of the primal sounds that they had produced, because the servants knew full well not to disturb the Magister when she was in her office with Bromwell or Rivella.

Blood smears could be seen along the wood of the bookshelves, and books haphazardly scattered and thrown along the floor. Aria's office was a mess and if it wasn't for either of them being half naked, it would almost look like someone attempted to sack the room.

There was a hum of thought from the Magister before she stood up and re-adjusted herself and re-tied her dress.

"Oui, Maitresse?" Bromwell asked, groaning at the loss of heat and watching Aria.

"I have figured out what I'm going to gift to Valdis." Aria chuckled, rearranging the necessities on her desk. She wouldn't bother with the rest of her office. She would have a servant come and clean it up at a later time.

In her hand she held a painted wooden dragon, one that her parents had given her when she was much younger and more naive to the Tevene way.

But there was no secret she favored dragons to this day.

"A dragon's mouth for a vase." She smirked, rubbing her finger along the wooden figure, "Agate gems for the eyes, and red scales." She explained idly, not taking her eyes off of the figure in her palm, "And within them, flowers." She finished simply.

"Flowers?" Bromwell scoffed, having already picked himself up and righted his trousers, "I didn't picture you as the type for flowers."

Aria's eyes snapped to Bromwell's and a frown replaced her smirk, "Even flowers have meaning, Bromwell. I would expect someone who lived in Orlais to know that."

The Reaver shrugged and stretched his broad shoulders, "I killed people for money, Aria. I didn't attend tea parties."

Aria scoffed in disbelief, "And yet your noble birth says otherwise."

Bromwell stiffened and Aria laughed, "You think I hired you because I need a bodyguard? Don't delude yourself, Bromwell. It doesn't suit you." She rolled her eyes and shook her head, "Nothing could be further from the truth."

She knew his background, as she doesn't hire anyone who has a 'mysterious' background. As far as noble boys go, Bromwell was pretty typical. Wanted the dangerous lifestyle of a warrior, and yet all of the lavish perks that came with being nobility. He got himself in trouble with the southern Chantry and his parents being devout in their silly religion, cast him into exile to be rid of the stain on their reputation in hopes that the damage could be fixed.

But it was Orlais. It would always be held against them. 

"So in your court what do flowers mean?" Bromwell asked quickly, obviously wanting to get off the subject. Aria noticed it, because her smirk seemed to grow. She reveled in making people uncomfortable.

"Foxgloves for insincerity," She explained, summoning an illusion of the vase and flowers, "geraniums for stupidity; Meadowsweet for uselessness; Orange lilies for hatred; Bee and frog orchids for error and disgust, respectively..." She looked at the illusioned bouquet for a moment and tapped her chin, "White lilies for the standard acknowledgement of death, and then one more..."

"Nasturtium for conquest."

"And you said you didn't attend tea parties." Aria chuckled, summoning the illusion of the flower with the rest of them, "It's so striking."

"And full of loathing." Bromwell smirked, pulling his tunic over his head and retying it, though it was useless because of the tear on the back, "I thought being passive-aggressive was beneath you."

"Well I can't outright attack him at his son's funeral. That would reveal me to be heartless, and I can't have that."

"And nothing says _'fuck you'_ quite like a bouquet." Bromwell laughed boisterously at the ridiculousness of it, but understood the meaning. She couldn't attack Valdis at his son's funeral, it would undermine her authority, not to mention they would start leading an actual investigation on Aria and once she was revealed to be a blood mage, would lose everything she has worked for.  
Aria chuckled and dismissively waved him away, "Get yourself cleaned up, flowers aren't going to arrange themselves."


	20. Plans and Realizations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again another long absence. I'm sorry guys, I really am. I've worked two jobs since July and during the holidays they had me run ragged and I could barely think. But now that holidays are over and I have to no longer worry about being homeless, I can focus on this once again. (Not writing makes me feel like I'm going insane) So anyways, enjoy this chapter!

Everything was as it should be. Within the Tevinter markets, there was business brought by land merchants since the ships wouldn't dare pass through the Ventosus Strait. No smart merchant would go near Seheron, and those who did brought goods that were so expensive most of the lower magisters and lower classes couldn't afford them. What the Carastese market didn't have however, were the selection of the rarer jewels like diamonds or sapphires. That was generally saved for Val Dorma since it was the closest city to Kal-Sharok.

But it had exactly what Aria needed. A potter with the skills to make clay look like dragon scales.

"Magister Levine!" He exclaimed with clay-caked hands and a broad smile, "What can I do for you?"

Aria raised an eyebrow looking around in his shop, he had improved since she had last been in here, or at least she thought so. Someone who practiced a craft as much as he did was bound to improve.

"I'm here to commission a series of vases."

"I certainly can do that for you."

Aria grinned, "I know. I've already procured everything you would need." She stated, making a head motion for Bromwell to pull a bag from his coat and place it on the wooden counter, "These are green agates." She explained once the potter opened the drawstring bag.

"They match your eyes." He observed, turning the stone over in his palm, making Aria's smirk widen.

"You flatter me." Aria rolled her eyes with a wave of her hand, as if the information was not new to her, "I need you to put these into the vases you're making for me. Two dragon heads with the agates for eyes."

"Red scales, Magister?"

"You know me so well." Aria chuckled, "I'll have your payment when I have the vases. How long?”

“For you, my lady, only a few days.”

And it was the end of that. Bromwell knew that Aria's word might not be trustworthy, but she was a businesswoman. If there was coin to be promised, she delivered the coin. At least in that, she was trustworthy. Bromwell couldn’t say the same to her attitude toward her fellow magisters.

Another thing Aria didn’t like was surprises. When a messenger boy came into the shop, waiting for Aria to finish her business, Bromwell could already tell the boy was going to have to leave quickly after delivering his news- if he didn’t want to already.

“Madame Magister Levine?” The boy struggled to ask, which made what little smile Aria had instantly disappear.

“Yes?” She growled impatiently.

“The Enchanter of the Carastese circle would like to inform you that Magister Pavus has appeared unexpectedly with guests.”

Bromwell could feel the room get warmer as Aria contained her fiery rage.

“How many?” She asked, her sharp eyes keeping on the boy as he stammered through his reply.

“Three. Two elves and a Grey Warden.”

“I will give you to the count of ten to get out.” Aria ordered, “And you will tell the Enchanter I will be at the circle before sundown.”

Aria didn't even have to start counting before the messenger began scrambling out of the shop. But the moment he was gone, she took breaths with closed eyes and a clenched jaw.

“So. The Crow failed and decided to _join_ the Grey Warden…” She spoke after a moment, replaying their encounter at the cafe in her head. A few of his quotes seemed to stick out, and she wondered how she missed it.

_“The Warden I knew left for her own quest. Elanda Cousland... Hm. What an interesting name…”_

Left for her own quest, hm? Cousland said she was looking for a cure. It was very much unlike the rest of her order which was focused on eradicating any Darkspawn or remnants of the Blight-with the exception of themselves.

Elanda Cousland was the Warden Zevran knew. Had he traveled with many Grey Wardens? Or was it only during the Blight? Because if the Blight was the only time he traveled with Wardens… Then Elanda Cousland _was_ the Hero of Ferelden… And didn’t want to be exposed.

Oh this…. This was the best thing that could happen to her today. _Now_ Aria had leverage against the woman. It opened up all manner of exciting possibilities. She _could_ act angry when she showed up at the Carastese circle and discovered that Zevran didn’t quite finish his end of the bargain and kill the Warden- but now that she had Cousland’s biggest secret under her thumb, Aria felt like she should thank the Antivan.

Bromwell saw the rage turn into sadistic satisfaction and he wondered what had caused such a drastic change. It was hard to tell with the Magister, but Bromwell had little interest if it dealt with her political standing. She pointed and he killed. He was slowly starting to notice the change in the other Magisters when he went with Aria to these events. They were becoming scared of her, which in her book was a good thing, but Bromwell wasn’t so sure. Aria still had so many enemies, and even in Tevinter, a Magister pledging an alliance wasn’t trustworthy.

Bromwell followed Aria out of the potters shop and into the market once again. He would never get over the history of Tevinter. Tevinter was the birthplace of Thedas, even as much as the southern Chantry tries to ignore it. From what he’s seen of Thedas, Tevinter had no modern buildings. Not a single modern building anywhere in sight. Even their mage circles were re-purposed temples for the Old Gods.

But he wasn’t here for sightseeing, though traveling with Aria did give him plenty of time for that. She lived in Tevinter after all. Half an hour later, Bromwell and Aria arrived back at her estate so she could change into something that was more worthy of her showing up at the Circle of Carastese.

“So why are we going to the circle? I thought mages hated those places.” Bromwell asked with a raised eyebrow after hopping in the carriage.

Aria’s harsh laughter was sudden, and made his eyes flick to her face which held an amused expression.

“Your southern mages hate it because it is so _vastly_ inferior to our circles.” She spoke with a smirk, looking out of the carriage window, “In the south, mages are controlled, only able to go out of their dismal little prisons at the permission of their templars.”

“Here in Tevinter,” She continued, making a motion to look out of the window, “Mages control. We have more power than the common man, and it’s respected. Respected, revered… Coveted. A Magocracy.”

“One that you’re apart of.”

Aria’s eyes didn’t bother looking at him, instead taking the city of Carastese in for another moment, “Oh, don’t say it like that, _Puissance_.” She chuckled, and the use of Bromwell’s last name made him cringe, she loved to make anyone she could uncomfortable. So far the list of people she couldn’t make uncomfortable was very slim.

Maevaris Tilani being one of the ones he knew about. Grey Wardens weren’t uncomfortable with much, considering they’ve been known to do _anything_ to stop the Blight, so he couldn’t say Elanda Cousland got uncomfortable with Aria. Was it really just two?

Bromwell went over the list one more time of who wasn’t uncomfortable with Aria, and those who were. The results came up the same.

His hands began to get fidgety, so he pulled the small piece of wood and a small cloth bundle from his small travel satchel. The small piece of wood was beginning to acquire shape, but it was still blocky- so it was hard to tell what it would be.

“Why do you do that?” Aria asked with narrowed eyes, looking down at his hands as he began working on the wood.

“I carve, Aria.” Bromwell chuckles, readjusting himself so he takes up one whole side of the carriage seat, “It’s what you pay me to do.”

“I pay you to carve _people_ , Reaver.” Aria reminded him with a snapping tone, “Not on wood.”

“And how am I supposed to keep my skills sharp when I haven’t carved someone in weeks, hm?”

Aria didn’t seem to see it that way, however. She saw wood and flesh as two different mediums, regardless if they used the same tool. You could have the steadiest hand in the world, but if your medium was squirming it wouldn’t matter… But maybe that was part of the fun.

The rest of the ride was ridden in verbal silence and the only thing that they could hear was the other’s breathing and Bromwell’s wood carving. But soon the main city of Carastese was left behind that the stone outline of the circle began to emerge.

The circle, per usual, was in crumbling condition. Aria had done her part with Gereon Alexius to promote and push the upkeep of their circles instead of trying to push further war with the Qunari, but the other Magisters wouldn’t have any of their progressive attitude. And now, all Aria wanted to do was wage war with everyone around her. It was truly amazing what time could do to a person.

Bromwell had never been to any circle before, hooked up with plenty of mages _from_ the circle, but never went to one himself. This didn’t look like a prison to him. This looked like a place where terrible, but amazing things might have been done by the ancient Tevene. It was no wonder that mages in the rest of Thedas wanted freedom.

“Magister Levine, always good to see you.” The First Enchanter greeted Aria with a formal bow and a kiss to her family ring.

Bromwell could tell she was administering her charm because she wore the sweetest smile she could charm and gave a slight curtsy- a sign of respect, or more aptly, mocking respect.

“Always a pleasure to be here, First Enchanter. And thank you for sending your messenger." She spoke, still continuing to smile and motioning past him, "May we rest for a while? My companion and I have had a long journey and would enjoy a moments rest."

This was the attitude she kept up when she wanted to keep people at arm's length, and for the most part, it worked. Bromwell was sure it was her reputation of being an absolute snake that made people apprehensive of getting too close with the Magister.

Once brought into a room, Bromwell seemed to roll his eyes at how friendly the First Enchanter was being, but if he wanted to stay alive, then it was probably best if he stayed as friendly as possible.

“How should we commence dinner?” The First Enchanter asked, “Your favorites?”

Aria chuckled and waved her decorated hand dismissively, “No, no. Pavus doesn’t need to know I’m here. Why don’t you serve _his_ favorites?” She hummed, “My treat.”

And just like that the First Enchanter was gone and so was Aria’s pleasant smile. Bromwell didn’t quite understand what all of the hush was about. Aria was dressed as a show of power, and yet she did not seem to want to find Dorian Pavus or the Crow.

“We have a Warden to find.”

* * *

 

“Will you and your compatriots be dining with us this evening, Magister Pavus?”

“I am quite famished, so yes. Although,” Dorian replied as if it was an afterthought, “The warden and Master Fenris will be joining us later.”

It had been the First Enchanter checking on them again. At this point Dorian and Zevran had started making bets about what time the man would show up- and Dorian was losing.

“I don’t think winning money has ever been easier.” Zevran chuckled as Dorian handed over more coin.

Elanda knew better, of course she had been there for Zevran’s bet with Alistair, and Alistair thinking that he knew how Morrigan worked, thought he would win.

But Alistair was right in the end, wasn’t he?

She got what she wanted out of the Warden. Elanda felt like fool, having trusted Morrigan as explicitly as she did.

“One would think I would have learned my lesson with Varric.” Dorian grumbled with jesting irritation.

“Yes,” Zevran chuckled, “Dwarves and crows have a similar eye for money.” His golden eyes landed on Elanda who wore a longer frown than usual as she put one of her daggers in her boot.

Zevran knew why she was going mostly naked- weapon wise. It was a simple courtesy, but she wasn’t going to go around without some form of protection.

The plan of action had already been decided; Zevran and Dorian would go to dinner and entertain the First Enchanter while Elanda and Fenris went through the library. The challenge was to find something in the limited time they had. They were Dorian’s “guests” and needed to play the game as much as he did- if not better.

Elanda knew how long they would pass until they were “fashionably late.” Court behavior wasn’t forgotten by the Warden Queen.

Elanda did visit the library ahead of schedule. Dorian felt it was rude to have her go by herself, so they all joined her.

“Eight eyes are better than two.” Dorian quipped with a smile.

Elanda appreciated their help, but how could they know what to look for if she didn’t know?

But every possible find, they put it on a table that was slowly stacking.

“Well Warden,” Dorian gave a playful smirk, “Time for Zevran and I to go eat before you devour everything.”

Fenris raised a silver eyebrow but Elanda didn’t take her eyes off the book in her hands.

Normally, how much a woman did or did not eat was a topic considered taboo. Something he learned from observing Hawke and her female companions. Though the only ones who seemed to ‘watch their diet’ were Bethany, though he was unsure if that changed since she became a Warden; and strangely Aveline.

But Elanda didn’t even bat an eyelash, much less register them leaving. It amused Fenris because Dorian had the expression of someone who wasn’t quite used to being unacknowledged. But if Elanda’s adventures were as crazy as Fenris could imagine, then a Tevinter peacock was the least colorful she’d encountered.

He began in search of another book and he caught the words as they blurred in and out of focus or slurring together. Fenris closed the book and shut his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Fenris wasn’t used to reading for long periods of time, or reading something so in depth and complicated, but even so, this felt like something different. Like he was without focus. His irritation grew and he felt his stomach growl angrily at him. The elf sighed, it was hard to remind himself to eat when there was so much going on. But when his stomach growled again, he couldn’t ignore his lack of focus anymore.

When he turned to the Warden, her steel eyes were sharp enough to snatch and soak the words on the page despite the bags beneath her eyes. If she was going to such lengths to cure herself of being a Warden, they why did she join in the first place? It was true that they took in anyone, but what was her story?

“You don’t need to stay here any longer than you can.” Elanda glanced up from the book she was reading with a soft but weary expression.

If Fenris held any disrespect for Elanda, he might have thought that the woman was ready to fall on her sword. Even though she had said he didn’t have to stay, he wanted to, but he couldn’t focus enough to stay and help.

“Very well.” He said begrudgingly.

“I appreciate your help, Fenris.”

That gave Fenris pause. He still wasn’t used to being thanked, much less appreciated. After being a slave for so long, ‘thanks’ was a form of mockery by Danarius and his disgusting fellow Magisters. But after Hawke had taught him- no, _showed_ him what it meant to do something because you _wanted_ to and not because you were told….

There was no other freedom like it.

“I am sorry I could not help further. My level of reading is still… Not optimum.”

Elanda looked up from her book as her mind slowly came to the realization that with the various things he struggled with or didn’t know how to do… Had Fenris been a slave? Not that it mattered. Who he was now mattered. At least to Elanda. She couldn’t speak for anyone else.

“Every little bit helps. Thank you.”

Fenris looked down for a moment as he turned around, but Elanda caught the hint of a smile before he disappeared.

Elanda considered herself fortunate in her current companions. It felt relieving to have someone- or multiple people that she could loosely trust with a plan.

She was well aware that not all would go according to plan, but when things went wrong- and they always did- Elanda had a team she could trust to handle it.

Her fingers graced over the spine of the book for a moment while she lost herself in thought, only to be jarred out of it when she heard the door open again to be followed by the sound of dulled footsteps approaching her.

Elanda slowly began to pull the blade from her shoe. Zevran would have been smart enough to announce himself and she doubted that Dorian or Fenris were suicidal enough to not follow that example.

Another mage then. Elanda kept her hand on her knife and eyes focused in the direction of the footsteps.

_“It’s astounding that they’ll leave you alone.”_ Morrigan scoffed, _“Even without knowing who you are.”_

Elanda was quick to recognize the approaching person the moment she stepped into the light.

Elanda’s lips grew long and terse, reluctantly putting her dagger back in her boot.

“Magister Levine, isn’t it?” Elanda frowned, “Come to assassinate me yourself? I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Aria’s lips grew into a smirk, “ _I_ have no desire to start a war with your husband, much less with your country.”

Elanda’s jaw tensed, but otherwise remained silent.

“I tried hiring someone to kill you, but you just got him on your side.” Aria chuckled maliciously.

Elanda frowned, knowing this game of conversational cat and mouse all too well. Elanda had no doubt that Aria expected her to say something like ‘It’s easy to get one on your side if you pay them well enough.’ But if Aria already knew, then she was just wanting to blackmail her.

And for now that’s the way it had to be. Elanda revealing who she was now would otherwise block off other roads of options, and right now she didn’t have the time for that inconvenience.

Elanda growled, knowing she wasn’t getting out of this unscathed.

“What do you want?”


	21. Just A Matter Of Time

“What do you want?”

“I have this event I must attend in a few days and I need a bodyguard.” Aria examined her fingernails  as if she had already won.

But in Elanda’s experience, even if you win some battles, you can still lose the war. Each battle just had to be played for the long haul, and from her point of view, Aria wasn’t playing for the long haul.

“Rumor has it you already have one.” Elanda raised an eyebrow, “A Reaver, no less. He must feel right at home.”

_“Isn’t that the truth.” Alistair muttered in agreement._

Aria didn’t seem to want to dignify that with a comment. “Yes and he will be there, but I have a sneaking suspicion that my adversary will make an attempt on my life.” She rolled her eyes knowing that he wouldn’t succeed, “Bromwell’s death gets me nothing… But _your_ death…” Aria grinned, “Gets my country in a war.”

Elanda raised an eyebrow. Aria’s plan to get her country in a war with Ferelden was stupid. Tevinter would be stretched far too thin and would be struggling to rally themselves together.

It was a situation Elanda was all too familiar with.

The Warden folded the book in her hands. “I suspect you are familiar with Logian Mac Tir?”

“Perhaps you mean the late _Regent_ Loghain Mac Tir.” Aria smiled as she saw Elanda steel herself. Aria made sure to category this as a subject of irritation. 

“He tried to get Ferelden to unify against us.” Elanda frowned, “Was making the Bannorn choose between supporting him, or us.”

She continued after a sigh, “He didn’t believe a Blight was in Ferelden… No more than I suspect you believe the Qunari are going to declare war on the rest of THedas… Despite Dorian’s experience.”

There was no change in Aria’s smirk, except for a hint of agitation. Elanda wasn’t playing along with her script apparently. And although there was no outer change in Elanda’s expression, that pleased the Warden.

“Long story short;” Elanda summarized. “He died in trial by combat.”

“Threatened your reign did he?” Aria sneered.

Elanda was the one to smirk this time.

“I did not kill him. _My_ vengeance had been taken out already.”

“Alistair Theirin killed him.” Saying his name pulled at Elanda’s heartstrings, but now was not the time to be sentimental, “And now he’s King.”

“As touching as that story is, Warden.” Aria yawned, “Tevinter isn’t a monarchy. I suspect there won’t be any little bastards to kill me.”

“Bastards?” Elanda chuckled, though she could feel her blood coming to a boil, “No I don’t suspect so… But if you’re fighting everyone as though you’re enemies, just know I have a tendency to put the _right_ people in power.”

_Leliana sighed dreamily, “You play The Game well, Elanda. Orlais has done you at least a little bit of good.”_

Elanda couldn’t quite argue, especially given the dour look on Aria’s face. The Magister had come into the library to extort Elanda, but she didn’t expect the Warden to do the same to her. Aria’s attempt at blackmailing Elanda had succeeded, but Elanda had also threatened to overturn all of the power that Aria has gained over Tevinter to someone else.  

It was something she did not expect… And Elanda took satisfaction in that.

Elanda watched her opponent consider the information carefully, weighing her options. Elanda had a suspicion that Aria would choose to blackmail Elanda anyways. It’s what she expected of any Tevene Magister.

Not excluding Dorian and Maevaris.

“I expect you to be at my personal estate in two days.” Arai said with finality, and left the library in silence.

_“You did well.” Leliana congratulated, “But once you serve your purpose-”_

“She has something over me now.” Elanda muttered, and felt as though her companions were around her, “The Magister won’t stop demanding favors until she no longer has something over me.”

_“Which means exposing who you are.” Leliana hummed, “You must find an opening. Play her game-”_

_“Are you a fool?” Morrigan interrupted, “If she plays the Magister’s game,  Elanda will be toying with death.”_

“As though I wasn’t already.” Elanda sighed, massaging her temples, “Toying with death and flirting with madness. Who thought I could be driven to such lengths?”

It was a sarcastic question, but one that her mental companions felt uneasy to answer.

But regardless, she was going to be past the ‘fashionably late’ if she kept procrastinating. Elanda didn’t like being in a pit of power hungry snakes, but she did have to play by their rules if she was going to investigate the cure for the Joining.

“Even if that means becoming a puppet.” Elanda muttered as she stood up and began exiting the library.

 _“Play well.”_ Leliana whispered as a small blessing before the shut of the library door quieted the voices in her head.

 

* * *

 

Dorian felt something off about the tower as soon as he stepped into the dining hall. The staff was far more uncomfortable than they had been when he first arrived.

Perhaps it was the fact that with Dorian’s open alliance with the Warden made them uncomfortable. With the Lucerni everyone knew their game. But what did a Warden have to game?

If the Warden was throwing in their lot with the Lucerni didn’t that go against the Warden’s policy of not getting involved with politics? Did it mean there was a blight coming to Tevinter?

Perhaps it was the complex uncertainty of their future that made them nervous.

Or perhaps-

Dorian spotted a familiar warrior with brown hair and blue eyes drinking out of a glass that was generally brought out for Magisters.

If Bromwell was here, it only meant Aria was not far.

Whether or not she wanted to admit it, her alliance as shady as it was with the Lucerni had made her paranoid. Of course it was safe to say that Aria was targeted, but no more than the rest of them. She had made herself a bigger target by hiring two body guards, and one of them a mage.

The more defenses she put around her, the bigger target she made of herself.

“Ah.” Dorian smiled, taking a seat next to Zeran, “I suspect your elusive Mistress is not far behind.”

The comment made Fenris twitch, but it caused a chuckle to arise from Bromwell.

“She’s having an important discussion.”

“More important than a meal with me?” Dorian chuckled with mock offense, “I’m insulted.”

Dorian had a sinking suspicion who she was talking with, and the fact that he got the same feeling from the two compatriots beside him, told him he wasn’t wrong.

Once Aria showed up, Bromwell stood up quickly and pulled out her chair, allowing her to sit down. He certainly was playing the servant part properly. His Orlesian roots would serve him well here.

Elanda came not far behind and Dorian, Zevran and Fenris stood, though given the look on the Warden’s face she didn’t appreciate that very much.

Dorian saw it as a respect for an ally, though the subliminal message was he thought that he respected Elanda more as an ally than he respected Aria as a fellow Magister.

Had Aria been allied openly with the Lucerni, maybe it would have been different.

Grand and long-winded toasts were made to Aria, Dorian, and the Grey Warden visiting the ‘fine Circle of Carastese’. It was nearly the same song and dance Elanda had played at Court; ‘Thank you’s’ and pleasant small talk for a while until someone’s curiosity got the better of them.

“You’re accent is Ferelden, is it not?” The first enchanter spoke, hoping to glean some sort of secret knowledge.

“Coast line, actually.” Elanda shrugged off, ignoring the slight turn in her stomach.

“Is it true most Fereldens have dogs?” Another mage asked, causing Elanda to chuckle thinking of her own pup.

“Depends what you mean when you say dogs.” She winked, “We have our men.”

There was a light round of laughter as they drank in jesting agreement.

“Do you know the history of the Mabari?” Aria smirked and Elanda’s eyes politely went to Aria’s but showed no change in expression.

_“Hold steady.” Leliana softly advised, “This isn’t anything new.”_

“I’m not well versed on the history of the Mabari, so please Magister Levine. Do enlighten me.”

“Mabari’s were originally from Tevinter, bred by a mage to understand complex demands.” Aria smirked, “Tevinter is the birthplace of Thedas’ people… And traditions.”

Elanda chuckled, wiping her mouth politely with a napkin instantly sensing a social trap.

Aria wanted Elanda to politely step around the trap like someone with noble blood would.

But now was not the time for the grand reveal.

“Perhaps it is my mishearing or your misunderstanding.” Elanda chuckled, “But the Mabari’s betrayed their Tevinter Magisters for the tribal folk.”

Aria’s lips pursed on the suddenly sour wine.

“Though I don’t expect they knew what they were doing back then.” Elanda continued with a bite of what tasted like chicken, “Ancient Tevinter had a bad habit of doing that, didn’t they? Unknowingly setting themselves up for failure.”

Fenris enjoyed this turn of conversation. He didn’t really enjoy the run around wording of Tevinter’s politics, so Elanda’s blunt approach was a refreshing change of pace. Though a glance at Dorian told Fenris that he too was enjoying the turn of events; even if he couldn’t outright say it. Maybe he enjoyed the fact that someone was finally holding Tevinter accountable for their actions.

“I wouldn’t call it a failure, Warden” Aria corrected, nearly through gritted teeth.

“I thought you wouldn’t.” Elanda smirked, “What would you call it?”

“An unforeseen probability.”

Elanda shrugged coolly, “I would hardly call the First Blight ‘an unforeseen probability’.”

An awkward silence came over the table and Elanda continued to eat as if nothing had happened. As far as social graces went, she had none.

Aria was bitter as she had been bested by someone was was playing a role well rehearsed. It would be hard to expose Elanda if Aria wanted to. But if Aria could arrange a meeting with King Alistair then her ‘secret’ trip in Tevinter wouldn’t be so secret.

Aria had begun counting the days. It was just a matter of time.


	22. Letting It Show

It was only a matter of time before the topic centered on Elanda appearance in Tevinter. But more specifically how she came to Tevinter.

“So how did you end up coming to Tevinter? Its rare we get a Warden, much less one that will openly get involved with politics.”

Elanda took a sip of the wine with a smirk. “This is actually my second time in Tevinter. But I mostly visited the border cities with the exception of Asariel. Last time wasn’t as exciting, but I did get a recruit out of it.”

“And this time?”

“This time I ran into a rather overzealous group who called themselves the Venatori and they shared a certain opinion that most have about me.” She chuckled, taking another sip of wine.

“And what is that?” Aria asked with a roll of her eyes.

“A godless heathen.”

“Wonder of wonders.” Aria murmured with a delicate sip of wine.

“Though I’m sure it doesn’t help that I was looking for them in the first place.”

Dorian chuckled, nearly with disbelief, “You were looking for them and got captured? Not exactly the best tactic, friend.”

“No one expects an attack from a captive.” She shrugs, “It was sloppy of them, to be honest.”

“And yet you _were_ caught by the Lucerni.”  Aria argued with a raised eyebrow.

“I was trained as a berserker.” Elanda chuckles, completely unaffected by Aria’s barb, “Not as a Templar. So I wasn’t as prepared for a paralyze spell as I should have been.”

“And how many Templars become Wardens?” The First Enchanter with a raised brow before the next question sprang from his mouth, “And how do the Wardens get the Templars off Lyrium? I understand that the Southern Chantry feeds their Templars lyrium?”

“As a personal favor to someone, I don’t go out of my way to recruit Templars.” Elanda begins taking a moment to pause in her eating, “But we do have some that seek _us_ out. It’s a long process, depending on the Chantry representative, but generally it results in the right of Conscription.”

It never ceases to amuse Elanda what the words ‘Right of Conscription’ can do, even out of context in a single conversation.

“Are you afraid I’ll invoke it, First Enchanter?” Elanda held back a smirk as she saw the briefest flicker that she might use it on _him._ She waved her hand dismissively and had a chuckle bubble through her chest.

“I’m joking, I’m not here to conscript anyways.”

“So what are you here for?” The First Enchanter asked, trying to hide the fact that his palms were still sweating.

“Research.” Elanda replies, going back to her eating, knowing such a simple reply would only further the First Enchanter’s curiosity.

With a library so vast, Elanda needed more help than she had to comb through it. Tevinter was a tricky place, and she needed someone closer to the library. And who was closer to the library than the First Enchanter? Dorian rather enjoyed Elanda mildly threaten conscription on the First Enchanter. Not that he would approve of Elanda doing such a thing, but watching the man lose his collected self ever so noticeably was quite entertaining.

Zevran however, was enjoying a different act altogether and he nearly let his grin slip through. He watched as Elanda pretended to ignore all the signs of the First Enchanter’s discomfort, only  to multiply it when she laughed at her own joke.

Given Elanda’s own circumstances to joining the Grey WArdens, there was only one instance that Zevran had heard where she did use the Right. It was something she didn’t abuse. So Zevran supposed that she had earned the right to use it as a little joke.

It was sloppy however, of the Magister to keep glancing at Elanda through the course of the meal, with the evident curiosity blatantly displayed on his face.

‘What could she be researching’

‘What is she not saying?’

It was clear to Zevran that with his lack of tact the First Enchanter was not a Tevene native. If needed, that information would prove very useful.

Zevran was not quite expecting to be confronted by Aria after such a delighted meal.

“Crow.” She growled through gritted teeth.

“And what do I owe this pleasure?”

“You didn’t do your job.”

“So touchy.” He grinned, leaning back in his seat. “I have however not failed the job that you have so generously paid me for.”

“And yet she still breathes.” Aria growled.

“I believe your words were ‘Get rid of her’.” He recounted, shrugging off the Magisters ire, “Perhaps you let your excitement get the better of you.”

Aria nodded, though through gritted teeth, “I will be more careful next time.”

“Oh, I count on it.” Zevran smirked, “I’ll be expecting it.”

“I’m sure you will.”

“That being said, Magister Levine…” Zevran spoke just as she turned around, “I do plan on finished this job.”

“I’ll believe _that_ when I _see_ it.” It wasn’t in the way the magister had in mind,  but Zevran did have a way of getting Elanda out of Tevinter. He just hoped it was before any other crazy event were to happen.

He doubted that. He was very much in doubt in that.

Because he knew there was always something.

“Well that was certainly an exciting dinner.” Dorian chuckled, closing the door behind him as the four of them convened in Elanda’s given room. Everything looked untouched, save for the desk where she had a small stack of books. She refused to get comfortable, no surprise given her status as a Grey Warden.

“Aria was bold to attack you at the dinner table.”

Elanda dismissively waved her hand, “I’ve had smaller bugs give me bigger problems. However, she’s going to be a bigger problem for the Lucerni if she makes blackmailing her allies a habit.”

“She tried to blackmail you?” Dorian crossed his arms, offense written on his face.

“She did.” Elanda responded vaguely, though Zevran got the hint quickly.

“It’s no surprise.” Fenris rolled his eyes. “Magisters will do anything to get ahead of their opponent. Which includes everyone.”

Dorian let a long sigh, dismaying that Fenris was right. Even though the Lucerni was hoping to change that.

“What did she say?"

“That I had best be at an event as her bodyguard in a few days.”

“Yes.” Dorian nodded, “No doubt that funeral service for my fellow magister.”

“Though I do not think he is going to the Makers side.” Zevran quipped, taking this time to examine the few blades he didn’t leave in his room.

“Or else what?” Dorian asked, now curious over what the Warden wasn’t saying.

“You think Wardens are clean Dorian?” Elanda growled through gritted teeth, “I know what I’ve done… And now your _fellow_ magister knows. She threatened to expose that.”

An uncomfortable silence followed, as if everyone understood what it meant to have skeletons unearthed from your wardrobe.

“Surely you told the woman something?”

Elanda’s glower turned into a smirk before straightening her Tevene tunic, which she was slowly growing fond of.

“I told her that Grey Wardens can tip the scales in more things than just Blights.”

“Are all Fereldans this fired up?” Dorian chuckles, though curious to how she’s going to tip Tevinter’s scales.

   
They can certainly get that way.” Fenris smirked, immediately thinking of Hawke.

 _“I think they are growing fond of you.” Leliana giggled_ , making Elanda closed her eyes to still the voices in her mind.

“I’ll be in the library.” Elanda murmured rushing past them and didn’t stop her power stride to the library until the door was closed behind her.

_“You’re letting it show.” Sten criticized, “Soon they may start doubting your leadership.”_

“I don’t think I asked you.” Elanda murmured, though she knew she didn’t really mean it. She valued all of the opinions, or in this case observations, highly. Sten was right, Elanda was letting her madness get to her.

But a thought occurred to her _much_ later than it probably should have; she was in _Tevinter_ . The land of slavers and _blood magic_. Blood magic was… Notorious for not only demonic possession, but mind control.

Elanda Was no mage, and certainly no Templar. She would be powerless against a mage if they decided to use blood magic on her mind.

Demons, mad men, cultists, dragons, darkspawn- she could fight these. Normal mages, she could fight. Mind control?

She wasn’t invincible and the moment of clarity wasn’t exactly kind.

_“Breathe.”_

And she did. Elanda quelled her shaking hands, and looked now to the vast library in front of her with two goals in mind, each one almost impossible: To cure the blight, and to defend against blood magic.

It was difficult asking people for help, but Elanda wouldn’t put her entire team at risk because of her. If these books couldn’t tell her anything, then she would have to warm them that she, out of all of them, was the most susceptible to blood magic.

This was a new team, and she had to trust them.

 

* * *

 

Elanda’s hasty and erratic retreat of the room gave everyone but Zevran a moment of pause. Dorian might have expected this from one of his former companions, but this seemed different and he wasn’t quite sure why. But he couldn’t pester the Warden with questions because Elanda seemed the type that the more personal questions you asked, the less answers you were going to get.

Dorian found himself missing Cole, his insight would help.

Fenris had caught Elanda occasionally staring into nothing, but still alert, almost as if she was listening to something- Even when there was nothing worthy of note.

He remembered how Hawk was honest if something was bothering her. Even if she went to Varric first, word still traveled through the group.

Was Elanda also like that? It was obvious enough that the Warden and the other Elf had close ties, but even Zevran seemed lost on this seemingly _new_ development.

Hawk was honest when it came to questions, no matter how personal. But Fenris didn’t feel comfortable enough with the Warden to ask if she was _alright_ \- and even if he did, he was presuming much to assume Elanda would even trust him.

Fenris would wait until Elanda said something to them- or if she became a danger, he would confront her.

For Zevran however, this was behavior that he had seen right after the trip to the Deep Roads, after they had encountered the Broodmother. This wasn’t that bad, but something was bothering her enough that she didn’t want to speak to any of them. Zevran knew Elanda well enough to know that if it was a Warden problem, she would admit it, so he could only assume that this was a personal issue and would tell someone when she was good and ready.

But that didn’t mean Zevran wouldn’t ask. What sort of friend would he be if he didn’t at least ask? It didn’t help that he could feel the eyes of Fenris and Dorian look at him like he would have the answers.

“Give her a few moments.” Zevran broke the silence, and he could feel the relieved tension in the air, “Then we will follow her into the library.”

“Very well.” Dorian accepted, picking up one of the books from the desk and began to read it, “Until then, I think we an do a little help here.”

 

* * *

 

The First Enchanter waited to go into the library until it was deemed personally appropriate. A Grey Warden, even a _Fereldan_ Grey Warden was still an important quest. Important enough to use manners and fix his hair and robes, but not important enough to use his _good_ robes.

As he entered the library, the Warden could be seen pouring over the book in her hands with a few additional ones in piles, no doubt organized in some manner. He cleared his throat to announce his presence and when he saw that Warden begin to move, standing from the chair, he walked forward.

“At dinner, you referenced that you were doing some sort of research. Nobody knows this library better than I do.” Well, other than the Tranquil, but until both Magister Levine and Magister Pavus was gone, they would stay out of sight.

“I was hoping that I might be of some assistance in finding a particular book.”

The Warden looked at one of the piles on the table, her expression debating.

“Perhaps you could.” She stated, still going through what looked like dozens of thoughts before finally looking at the First Enchanter, “In fact, I was hoping you would.”

He realized at this point it was too late to turn around from an obvious trap. It was lazy of him to not realize the bait she had placed at dinner.

“What can I do for you?” He asked, now on the defensive. Wardens will do anything to stop the Blight, so what did she want?

“Tevinter has rich history. Some would argue the birthplace of Thedas.” Elanda started out, “Though due to it’s arrogance the ancient Tevenes thought they could do anything they wished.”

His eyes narrowed and his stomach dropped. He could see where she was going.

“But it’s not quite Tevinter’s history I’m interested in.” Elanda glanced away from the First Enchanter, as if interested entirely by his presence, “I would like to have a book specifically on Blood Magic.”

From Elanda’s perspective it was interesting to see a Tevene Magister feign to be offended. She wasn’t totally convinced of his act, given his steady hands and calculating gaze. His jaw was tight, and the rest of his body said he was offended, but Elanda had been a quick study in both the Fereldan and the Orlesian courts.

“ _Blood magic_ ?” He scoffed, “The _sheer notion_ of Tevinter having modern ties to such a _barbaric_ practice _sickens_ me.”

Her grey eyes hardened on the First Enchanter before she spoke, “After the First Blight, there were seven families who distanced themselves from the ‘Original Dreamers’ who invaded the Maker’s golden city and tainted it.” Elanda wasn’t as religious as she sounded, but she had done her research well beforehand- something that the First Enchanter wasn’t expecting, given the fear growing in his eyes.

“One of which, I’ve killed.” She lied about that. The Architect certainly wasn’t dead and the Warden had her own regrets about that encounter, “And one nearly destroyed Thedas a few years ago with help from the _Tevinter_ organization called the Venatori.” But she wasn’t done, “Then came Livius Erimond who nearly destroyed my Orlesian brethren. He took advantage of their fear and promised them an army brought forth by blood magic.”

“And finally,” She growls, “Comes the son of  Magister Matthias, who I watched turn into an abomination with my own eyes.” She finished with gritted teeth, “So I’m going to ask one more time: Where are your books on performing blood magic?”

The First Enchanter was now terrified of the Warden in front of him. It was true then, that Wardens would do anything to stop the Blight, and he got the impression that this Warden in particular it didn’t matter who got in her way. But he was not about to be her next victim.

“Minrathous!” He nervously shouted, adjusting the front of his robes so that way his hands wouldn’t be seen shaking, “We don’t have the types of books you’re looking for here…. They would be in the Circle of Minrathous library.” He concluded fearfully, unable to take his nervous gaze from Elanda’s harsh one, afraid that if he were to look away she would kill him without another thought.

Much to his held back relief, the Warden took a step back and after picking up her small stack of books, she had left him alone in a dark library to recollect himself. There were still things to do before heading to the Capitol.

And that was the annoying part.


	23. Something is Better Than Nothing

“It would make sense.” Dorian nodded, hand cradling his chin, “Minrathous is where Tevinter’s biggest circle is and where we’d be going for the event in just a manner of weeks.”

“But we do have other things to tend to.” Elanda closed the book in front of her, “WE will stay here and I will finish what I have in front of me, but I can’t waste anymore time.” Her idle hand tapped against the back of a chair.

“If we’re to go to Minrathous and be among Magisters we need to know your customs.” Elanda continued, now beginning to walk towards the window and looking into nothing as she escaped to her own thoughts.

“A few weeks to teach you Tevinter’s customs?” Dorian chuckled, “People have lived here their whole lives and still get it wrong.”

“Then perhaps we shouldn’t get it wrong.”

“I have a sneaking suspicion that the Deep Roads would be an easier trial.” Zevran chuckled, and watched the wry grin break out on Elanda’s face.

“They’re just monsters of a different kind.” The Warden grinned.

“Truer words have never been spoken.” Fenris agreed, picking up a book and began to focus on the words once more.

Elanda could see the relief in Fenris’ shoulders. He was the least comfortable around tevinter mages. If he had been a slave, how was it that his ‘master’ had not come for him? In fact Elanda found it bizarre that there had been no mention or question about his tattoos or his ‘master.’

_“It’s disgusting how Tevinter Magisters think they can own people.” Alistair murmured._

_“The Chantry is the same way.” Anders argued._

It turned her stomach, but he wasn’t wrong. Justinia had great plans, and Elanda wanted to protect her, but had put her quest for the cure first… Resulting in the death of Divine Justinia at the Conclave. Being out of society for so long had made her lose track of who exactly replaced Divine Justina.

_“The Chantry has done great things.” Leliana defended._

But any arguing by the voices in The Warden's head was silenced by Zevran jaring Elanda’s concentration.

“Is something the matter?”

Elanda’s eyes stared at Zevran silently for a single blink before she answered.

“No. Nothing’s the matter.” She replied, “But what is on my mind is not for the ears of the Tevinter Circle.”

Fenris looked up at the Warden and met her steely gaze. Elanda saw an expression that told her he retreated for the shortest of seconds into his past before giving a solemn nod and continued reading the book in his hands.

The awkward silence that followed changed considerably once everyone had a book in their hands.

* * *

 

Hours passed and one by one they were falling asleep. Fenris first, followed by Dorian.

Zevran yawned and got comfortable in the chair, his chin propped up against his hand.

“You remember how to wake me up, yes?”

The sudden question took Elanda off her guard before she chuckled.  
"I’m sure you’ll wake up with a blade to your throat.” She jested with a roll of her eyes.

“You do remember.” He grinned as he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

“Of course I do.” The Warden murmurs through a soft chuckle that slowly fell when she realized she was the only one awake.

Elanda leaned back in the chair, listening to her surroundings; The varying  pattern of her companions breathing, the wind outside, the low flicker of the candle, and the soft murmurs from _right_ outside the door.

She moved as quietly as possible, though it was just enough movement to wake both Zevran and Fenris, though they both kept quiet when they saw Elanda put a single finger to her mouth and then tapped her ear, indicating for them to listen.

From the look on Fenris’ face Elanda got the impression the murmurs were about him, which confirmed her theory that at one point the elf had been a slave.

Didn’t Dorian say something about a ‘Danarius’? Perhaps she _should_ have read the _Tale of The Champion_.

But it didn’t matter to Elanda what Fenris might have been or previously was. What mattered to Elanda was who he was _now,_ and that was a free man.

And if Elanda could help it, she would keep it that way.

It took the eerie silence to wake Dorian up and when he saw his three comrades quiet and tense, Dorian knew that they were about to be attacked.

So much for his beauty sleep.

“Stun.” Was the softest volume he had heard come out of the Warden as she put out the small candle after wetting the tips of her fingers, snuffing out any light that was in the room.

The door opened and Elanda grabbed the handle from the other side, using it as a shield on the last man who entered, or tried to enter.

The problem was, her 1-2-3 bash wasn’t going to work as her opponent matched her strength, or seemed to.

The door was caught on the second bash and Elanda wasted no time to struggle for control of it, instead choosing to come around the door delivering a head-butt.

Her opponent, who she saw was a male mage, staggered backwards only for Elanda to grip him by the back of his head to meet her knee, followed by a bunch to the jaw and finally a kick to the stomach.

One down.

The Warden turned around and nearly doubled over from an electric pain. With somewhat blurry vision she looked up and saw a bright illuminating light that would have almost blinded her had she not shut her eyes and charged forward. Elanda angled her shoulder to drive directly into the mage’s chest. It was enough to knock the wind out of them as well as break the mage's concentration.

“Does this happen a lot Dorian?” Zevran inquired as he picked one of his sleep darts out of the neck of his assailant.

“No.” Dorian grunted, able to get the staff out of his opponents hands and deliver two hits to the skull before taking a breath, “At least, not so blatantly.”

“It’s a sloppy attempt.” Fenris growled, wiping up his bleeding lip with the back of his hand.

Elanda gave the final uppercut on her opponent before the female mage fell to the ground.

“Who or what were they after?” Dorian questioned, “Do we even know?”

“I think this is a conversation best for when we’ve put this place behind us.” Elanda groaned through gritted teeth as she stood up straight.

“Though we must take into consideration that I killed a Magisters son.” The Warden continued, able to see the relief on Fenris’ shoulders.

It was clear that whatever Fenris was involved in, he did not want to talk about. Elanda understood, all too well.

“Now that we’re clearly unwelcome.” Dorian sighed, “I think we should make our exit.”

“Couldn’t agree more.”

* * *

 

“Please rethink your leave, Magister Pavus.” The First Enchanter begged.

“And why should I when you can’t seem to get your affairs in order?” Dorian held his gaze.

“You didn’t just attack me, First Enchanter Varinius.” He continued with a frown, “You attacked _my guests_.”

“So tell me, Anselem Varinius,” Dorian emphasized the First Enchanter’s name, clearly making him wince, “Why should I stay in a place that my guests and I no longer feel welcomed?”

When only silence followed, Dorian nodded his head solemnly, “Precisely.”

With business concluded Dorian guided his horse to join his companions.

“So what will they do now? Especially after such a scolding review?” Zevran jested with an eyeroll that stated he already knew the answer.

“Until I visit again, I suspect nothing will change.” The Magister shrugged, feeling more comfortable now that they were plenty out of earshot.

“Any other Magister might have killed him on the spot.” Fenris commented, his eyes shifting to Dorian.

“If I want Tevinter to change, I have to change first.” Dorian stated as if it were so simple when they all knew it was far from it.

“So… What happened at the circle?” Dorian quested after another few moment had passed and his curiosity couldn’t be contained further.

Fenris seemed to expect it given the heavy sigh that he emitted.

“Earlier you had said you were glad that I had killed Danarius.” Even now Fenris spoke the name with venom, “And even I can’t deny that his final breath helps me sleep at night.”

A look of understanding passed through all of them. They all had their own stories to tell. Some were just not in the page of a famous (or infamous) piece of literature.

“But even still I am a precious commodity.” The Elf brought his gauntleted hand up for view and his markings seemed to glow, the scowl on his face deepening, "At one time it might have been said that lyrium could not have been ingrained onto a person's skin while they were still living... Danarius succeeded by putting it on mine."

“My first attempt to run away lead me to Seheron.” He explained, though skipped the part where he murders the ones who sheltered and protected him, “My next attempt was in Kirkwall.”

“Where you met Hawke.” Dorian hummed and Fenris nodded.

“And finally killed Danarius.” He sighed, “But even still it was not enough. I came back to Tevinter to help others escape… But even so, it is disheartening when one sees familiar faces only to know that they’ll be caught again.”

“And then there are some that are trapped deeper within Tevinter’s politics.” Fenris growled, “It is not enough to free those who cannot choose, now that I have set myself on a course to free anyone from Tevinter.” Fenris looked at Dorian, “Even you.”

“‘Even me’?” Dorian questioned with a raise of his brow, “I’m not trapped-” He stopped himself.

He had never given it much thought, frankly. Dorian had always been in a position to do more than the common man. But he was heavily involved in Tevinter’s politics, even if he edited the rules to further his liking. Dorian Pavus was a Magister and now there was more pressure on him to be involved. If he chose to do nothing then all of his progress would mean nothing. And yet if he instilled his rules on all of Tevinter _now,_ he’d be proving the rest of Thedas right. That Tevinter only produces slaves and tyranny.

He was a slave to the system… It never seemed like much of a trap, but that’s the way it generally goes with gilded cages.

“And that is why I’m here.” Fenris stated after Dorian’s eyes focused back on him looking nearly enlightened.

“And what if we fail?” The Crow asked with a blonde eyebrow slightly arched.

“Then I will go back to doing what I did before.”

“Even when you just said that it’s not enough?”  
“Something is better than nothing.”


	24. Meanwhile: Part One

Wendell hated it here.

The Anderfels must be the  _ worst _ place he could think to be, and yet the Grey Wardens had built their fortress here.

The land was barren of any plant life, and if the sun wasn’t trying to bake you for the rabid wild life, it was trying to freeze you into easier prey.

It was now, under the warmth of his cloak that he began to understand how spoiled he was by being a mere messenger working for Magister Pavus.

The Pavus seal got him into the finest bath houses, the sweetest wines, and some of the best foods.

When you worked for any of the Lucerni head (it’s what he calls Magisters Pavus, Tilani, and Calpernia collectively) you didn’t want for anything.

Expect to not be sent to the _literal_ ass end of Thedas.

So to put it one more time: He hated it here.

If he breathed too loudly, he turned around with both blades to see that there was nothing behind him.

The only thing that greeted him was the sound of wind and the distant sound of shrieking which Wendell managed to convince himself that it was just the wind.

But it was getting harder and harder to ignore the volume and intensity of the screeches of wind. He tried to chalk it up to his imagination, he really did, but it was the eerie silence that truly made the hairs rise on the back of his neck.

But that’s when he heard it: A shriek that made his ears ring and his hands instantly pull out his daggers. He had never heard something so inhuman before, and he felt like that was saying something considering he lived in TEvinter and had heard the sounds of dying abominations.

Nobody ever warned him how terrifying and disgusting Darkspawn were.

A black helmet covered the Darkspawn’s face, but Wendell could see the jaw peek from beneath the helmet as it released another shriek. Even as his ears rang he knew jaws weren’t supposed to move like that. The messenger resisted the urge to cover his ears as he struggled to parry the Darkspawn. He tried not to notice the pointed ears that peeked out from the sides of his opponent's head.

As much as Wendell wanted to think of every opponent as a human, the blocked skin and the smell of decay and vomit were a clear sign to his brain that his enemy was nothing more than a monster.

The Darkspawn shrieked again and this time was accompanied by multiple echoes. Which meant to Wendell that he was going to die.

It was ideal, and it certainly wasn’t the way he thought he would die, but here he was: In a land that was awful, surrounded by literal monsters, and hungry.

A shriek was cut short as an arrow went through the Darkspawn’s throat. The creature turned and went to lunge away from the direction of the projectile only to have another lodge in it’s blackened chest armor, followed by another, and another.

It fell over dead at the fourth arrow that was lodged into it’s chest and a blood curdling roar followed.

But this roar was, much to Wendell’s praying, far more Human.

“Alright you sodding blighters,” The gritty voice cried into the darkness, “Which one of you will eat silverite tonight?”

The shrieks that followed made Wendell run to the direction of the more Human of the two groups.

And suddenly there was fire. So much fire on the ground and it allowed Wendell a far better look at the creatures than he would’ve ever liked to have.

But it also allowed the terrified messenger to get a view of his saviors.

Gleaming silverite, the deep blue fabric and the griffon branded on the chest-plate told Wendell all too well who had come to his rescue.

The Grey Wardens.

Or at least a small group of them.

It was a small team made up of four Grey Wardens, though his eyes wanted to perceive five. They were all wearing full armor, though in the fire he could make two out for mages, an archer, and the axe wielder.

“You should not be so close to Darkspawn.” Came a voice that would have made him shriek if it hadn’t been for the woman’s thin hand around his mouth.

She forcefully guided him behind the Wardens where he saw the archer loose another arrow at an approaching Darkspawn.

“Not bad…” The hooded woman chuckled. “For a shem.”

The archer loosed another arrow, though his voice was remarkably soft for a Warden, “Never thought I’d be using a bow.”

“In time maybe you won’t have to.” One of the mages spoke up as he raised a hand as if willing something to rise from the earth and making a dramatic swiping motion across the air bringing biting cold winds with it.

Wendell could see it was difficult for the Dwarf to wait, however the other figure dashed through the magical blizzard with a sword made completely of light.

Wendell had never seen an Arcane Warrior in action before, but he couldn’t stop staring. Mages never stopped surprising him- even when he lived in a land ruled by mages.

“I think,” The archer announced, amusement laced in his voice, “It’s over.”

“Quit showing off.” The Dwarf growled, “They’re just Darkspawn.”

“Me? Not show off?” The second mage chuckled, throwing back his hood dramatically, “Then _how_ would I annoy you?”

“You’d find a way.” The warrior grumbled, his head finally turning to Wendell, “A little far from home, aren’t ya?” It was now that Wendell could see the long red braids that started from his chin and came down nearly to the middle of his chest.

“I need to go to Weisshaupt.” Wendell stated after finally finding his voice.

“And here I thought I was gonna have fun.” Come yet another grumble from the Dwarf.

“Nobody goes to Weisshaupt because they feel like it.” The Arcane Warrior stated, a dark eyebrow coming up as if to accuse the messenger of something.

“I have a letter for…” Wendell closed his eyes to remember the Warden’s words, “Cousland’s mathematician.”

There was an uncomfortable silence as the Grey Wardens looked at the archer who extended his hand.

“Why didn’t she just say your name?” The Dalish assassin wondered as Wendell brought the letter out of his coat and handed it over.

“She  _ did _ say she was headed to Tevinter.” The other mage commented, summoning a small bit of light as the Archer began to open the letter, "I doubt she trusts anyone there."

“Cousland’s always had a bit of a dramatic streak.” The Dwarf shrugged with a roll of his eyes.

“No.” The archer replied. “She did that to keep my identity safe.”

“Aren’t you the son of a Magister? Why would she be keeping your identity safe? ”

“You.” The Dalish assassin looked over at the messenger, “Are not allowed to breathe a word of this conversation. Do you understand?”

Wendell lamely nodded, taking note of the way her hands rested around the hilts of her daggers.

“My identity isn’t the only one being kept secret.”

“Well, let’s not keep her waiting!” The Dwarf exclaimed, clearly excited to have word from Elanda Cousland.

“I'm afraid none of you can join me.” The archer said defeatedly, his eyebrows furrowing as he continued reading the letter. 

“Why not?”

“She’s concerned what a _group_ of Wardens might do to the Tevene population.” The son of a Magister replied, his voice bugging the back of Wendell's memory, “With Tevinter on the brink of two wars, she doesn’t want the panic of everyone thinking there might be a blight as well.”

“Sensitive nug humpers.”

“She only stopped the Blight 12 years ago, Oghren.” The mage chuckled, "People are still paranoid about a Blight." 

“They don’t realize how capable Elanda is of handling herself…”

“ _And_ the rest of Tevinter’s problems.”

“Who is she?” Wendell asked, once again made uncomfortable by the sates from the Grey Wardens. They all looked as if they wanted to say something with the smirk that came over their faces.

The archer offered his hand to Wendell and helped him up.

“She’s the Hero of Ferelden.”


	25. Meanwhile: Part Two

Purpose was something that Rivella had felt that she'd been missing for a long time. At first she thought the Magister had been toying with her, as had every rich Noble before her. But Aria had been something else entirely. Rivella had seen the spirits of Command flock around Aria, even as she had walked into her hut in Rivain. 

Purpose finally visited Rivella, and she followed Aria to Tevinter. Once she got there, the only thing she found disappointing in Tevinter, was it wasn't really that different from Rivain. Even in it's politics. 

Aria wanted both Valdis and Lunete out of her way. So, Rivella sought out to kill the Father, and Lunete was not enough of importance to warrant a death, but a subtle disappearance. So the Dreamer was 'cast' out of Aria's good graces, where she would run to the Matthias family and tell them 'everything'. 

Rivella didn't think that it was in a Tevene Magister's blood to tell the truth, but it was still serving it's purpose. Just as she currently was. 

"I didn't think Aria would be sending an envoy so soon." The wife murmured, coming down the stairs, one of her hands still on the wooden railing of the lavish staircase. 

"She wants to see this bridge between your two families built so there is no... Bad blood later."

Valdis came forth from another room and already Rivella could tell why Aria wanted him eliminated. 

Valdis Matthias was of taller stature, more sun-kissed than Aria, and his once brown hair was greying on the left side. Rivella could see the hard lines of command written on his face, but the air around him indicated that his time for power had long since passed. 

Aria didn't need the complication of an old dog vying for power. Especially power that wasn't his. 

All of this happened in an instant before Rivella looked at Lunete. 

She was pretty enough. Her brown hair was long and unkempt, a style of the season most likely, since Aria wore her hair in a similar style. The wife wore intricately stitched garments on the tighter side, suggesting either she wore them in such a way to inflate her own ego, or to possibly entice her husband to lay with her. 

As Rivella understood it, within Tevene culture, you didn't have children. You continued your bloodline and weeded out the undesirable traits. 

With Eldon Matthias now dead, their line was in the same state. 

"I have no need to hear what some  _ Rivaini whore _ has to say." Valdis growled, though Rivella was not impressed. 

The Rivaini had been there with Aria on days where the Abyss seemed a friendlier place than at Aria's side. So this...  _ Magister _ growling at Rivella was comical at it's very best and she held back laughter from it. 

_ "Husband."  _ Lunete shot a silencing glare at Valdis, who did manage to quiet himself, albeit begrudgingly. 

Rivella considered in this moment that perhaps Aria couldn't see the true threat that Lunete posed. The Rivaini would watch both of them for the brief time she would be staying here. If the woman was a threat, then Rivella would adjust the plans accordingly. 

"Perhaps I should restate myself." Rivella made a small effort to bow, out of politeness, "Magister Levine would have me deliver this letter" The Dreamer continued, pulling the letter from one of the breast pockets of the Tevene styled coat she was wearing, "It would say how she's very sorry for your loss and she is ready to lift some of the burden from your shoulders and ease your stress." 

Rivella chuckled, "It's poetic really. She can have quite the way with words when she wants something." 

"And what does the maleficar want?" Valdis piped up again, clearly not being quiet as his wife demanded. 

Lunete said nothing this time, but kept her eyes trained on Rivella,. A loyal servant would never give away that their mistress wanted something, even if it was so painfully obvious. 

But Rivella never claimed to be loyal. 

"We know what Magister Levine wants even when both her father and her letter say otherwise," Lunete corrected, now taking the last few steps down, as if to observe Rivella. 

Whether it was to observe her as an ally or a playmate, Rivella didn't bother to guess. 

"The question is my dear," Lunete continued, placing the barest amount of fingers underneath the Rivaini's chin, making her look into the Lady Magister's sapphire eyes, "What do you want?" 

"Perhaps my obvious betrayal wasn't obvious enough." Revella spoke, but did not move her head out of the woman's grasp, " _ Aria, _ " She spat the name with venom and watched as Valdis' eyes twitched, as if he believed in the Rivaini's hatred, "Took me from Rivain,  _ my home _ , in hopes that I might be a link for her to the deceased." 

"When my magic fails or I don't produce the results she desires," The Dreamer took off her coat, though didn't dare look away from Lunete's gaze, "She uses me in a physical capacity for her own amusements." 

They could see the various marks, cuts, scars. Rivella didn't tell them that it was from a previous Qunari lover she had in Rivain, but that was information they didn't need to know. 

"To say that I want nothing more than for the Levine family to fall is nothing short of an understatement." 

Lunete's gaze drifted down, observing all of the marks on Rivella's form and released her with a sound of thought. 

"Very well, Rivaini." She spoke after a moment of careful consideration, "You may stay... You are full of useful information. But we will be watching you." 

"I expect nothing less." Rivella bowed again, smoothing out light wrinkles on her coat. 

"This letter you have," Valdis extended his hand, "Give it to me." 

"Very well. It is  _ your _ letter." The Rivaini handed the Tevene Magister the letter and took pride in the emotions that shifted on his finely chiseled features. 

A way with words indeed. 

"I have a luncheon with Asar tomorrow," Lunete announced, "I will tell him we've received Aria's  _ most touching _ letter and will gladly accept their hands in building this bridge between us." 

The Lady Magister took a delicate seat and raised a porcelain cup to her lips, "You will do nothing out of turn, husband." She continued, though her tone was harsher now, "You will gain back the sway you once had, but for now, allow me to see what Aria's true end game is." 

"Sorry?" Valdis raised a dark eyebrow, "You want me to  _ wait _ while this woman plans our demise?" 

The wife didn't seem bothered. Instead she gazed into whatever liquid she was drinking in thought. 

"No." Her voice broke through the silence suddenly, "I expect you to wait while I make an attempt at understanding our enemy." 

"Eldon tried the same thing-" 

"And failed." Lunete's eyes now went to her husband, "Eldon was approaching Aria like a child approaches a dragon. He was unprepared." 

A compliment Aria would no doubt love to hear, especially by an enemy. Rivella would tuck it away and inform Aria once the Matthias family was destroyed. 

"Aria is not my first or my last dragon." The Lady Magister adjusted a piece of her hair, letting the mild nuisance show on her face, "So you will wait, Valdis. And we will use all of our resources." She glanced at Rivella, who bowed her head and noticed the girl standing off to the side, motioning for the Rivaini to follow her down the hallway. 

The girl couldn't have been older than fourteen. She didn't look into Rivella's eyes, but Rivella could feel the cold tension of magic in the air which granted another glance. 

The young girl was fair skinned, small copper curls and... Pointed ears that were coming from within the curls. 

" _ Ea vyr, lethal'lan. _ " Rivella murmurs as the young woman opens the door, only to stop and look at her with wide green eyes. 

The Rivaini moved some of the auburn locks away from her own ears to show the young girl the ever-so-slight curvature of her own ears.  

"Half." 

"I miss-" 

Rivella put a slender finger on the young girl's mouth and shook her head, "Not here. I will speak to you, in a night or so. Alright?" 

The young Elvhen girl nodded and once Rivella was situated, she left. 

Rivella believed that Aria could purge her enemies- but also knew that the woman wasn't known for having friends. 

What would Aria do once she conquered her own political system? There would be no shortage of enemies, and no shortage of tense and temporary alliances. 

Rivella's position was assured, however. There was no question about it. Aria wouldn't have the time as Archon to train someone as... Intimately as she had done with Rivella. 

But what of Tevinter's slavery? Would Aria set all of the slaves free? The subject had never been brought up, and Rivella couldn't think of any other solution. They had to be let go. 

It was too early to think of such things, however. Aria was not Archon and a horde of enemies still stood before her. 

Lunete Matthias made the mistake of announcing she had a luncheon with Aria's father tomorrow. That still gave Rivella time to plant the seeds of doubt. Valdis was a Qunari gaatlock powder keg waiting to explode and Lunete was an obvious narcissist. 

They couldn't have made it any easier. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Ea vyr in this context is to "stay close"
> 
> Rivella does not belong to me, but to constellatedstories :)


	26. To Bridges

Aria had picked out his wardrobe for the luncheon, as she had for every meeting since their family's political seat had been put in her hands. Appearances were everything to Aria, and everything had to be _ just  _ so. 

Asar wondered why he hadn't done it sooner. His daughter had an eye for fashion, as well as the dramatic. Every move she made with any one of her pieces furthered her goal for power. But she wasn't always like this. 

As he dressed himself, Asar remembered why Aria hadn't taken over their seat, even when he was content to ride upon his laurels until the end of his life. She wouldn't have wanted it. Younger Aria was far more enamored with freedom and love than political power. 

He looked in the mirror as he adjusted his collar. Red looked good on the Levine family, always had; Gold dragons stitched on the high collar, gold buttons going down his left ribcage, black and bronze embroidery on the edge of the sleeves, slightly longer tails on the back of Asar's coat for dramatic effect, and last but not least, a small loose sash that attached to his left shoulder and wrapped around his waist. 

His trousers, in comparison, were simple: black with gold stitching, with a simple black and bronze embroidery that was similar to the pattern on his sleeves. 

Shoes were made of blackened dragonling scales, and if he remembered correctly inlaid with the barest layer of fennec fur for comfort. 

"Soft shoes with a dangerous look and a quiet step." Aria had said when delivering the shoes. 

The last effects the Magister was to put on was the Levine family ring; one that he nor Aria went without. He tacked on a few of his medals along the right of his chest, and slicked back his salt and pepper hair, gathering it into a small ponytail that rested at the nape of his neck.

One more glance at himself in the mirror nearly made him laugh. For a luncheon, he certainly looked formidable. Aria had dressed him as if he was someone who could take back his power if he wanted to. 

And why not? Aria had a goal to this, but he had never given it any thought because he didn't care. After Felix's death, she was an entirely different human being, one he began to resent. Asar met his own hazel gaze and he felt a wave of shame cross his heart. His daughter had changed because he refused to help her in her grief. 

Perhaps now was the time to reconnect with Aria. If she was truly trying to turn over a new leaf then there was no reason why he couldn't make the attempt. Once they were both at the Matthias estate, perhaps he would try. 

It was true, he didn't want to marry Ivona, Aria's mother. But once he became a father, he truly understood the match that both his parents and her parents had made. Ivona's beauty and magical ability was an exact match with Asar's own looks and his connection to one of of the Archons. 

Asar had wanted a son, as did most Tevene magisters, to continue their name and magical lineage.. 

But when Aria had been born, his outlook changed. He had sworn to himself that if Ivona, her family, or any other attempted harm on his baby girl, he would end their lives, painfully. 

His mother, Valeria, though had argued that there was no need, because she took Aria under her wing. 

Asar took a seat at the table of the empty cafe, just as he and Lunete had requested. The quiet however, made the smallest hairs stand up on the back of his neck. As a man of action, the silences that went in the 'peace talks' generally meant that someone was about to die, and this felt no different. 

It didn't last long, which Asar was thankful for, as the woman he'd been waiting for walked into the cafe. Her hair was in a complex braided up-do, her light blue gown an odd color for such a sad moment in her life, the transparent sleeves waving with the slightest of wind, and the sun sparkled on her silverite jewelry. 

He stood, as was polite. Even when dealing with an adversary, "Lady Magister Matthias," Asar crooned, his lips making the barest touch to her cheeks before giving the same treatment to the back of her hand similarly, "It has been sometime." 

"Please, Asar." Lunete smiled pleasantly, giving off a polite laugh while pulling her delicate hand away from his, "It has been far too long to address me by my title." 

Familiarity was a good sign, he supposed. It's what he wanted to believe. Asar wanted to push away the blaring red flag. But he couldn't ignore it. 

"Lunete," Asar chuckled, and pulled up a chair out for her, "You haven't changed a bit."

Though he could say the same for the Imperium in it's entirety. The Imperium hardly ever changed and it didn't like any step of change. The fact that the Lucerni wanted to turn it completely over, made them a pack of wild cards. 

Asar wasn't exactly sure if he wanted to find out how the Lucerni would change Tevinter. 

"Speaking of change..." The woman hummed, as Asar found his place on the opposite side of the table, "Your daughter has certainly turned over a few scales..." 

Despite the woman just losing a son, Lunete looked as if she could have not slept better. Another red flag. It was a moment where he was once again questioning why he was here. 

Lunete's bare jewelry musically jostled with the slightest movements. Nothing about this woman said she was in mourning. Not even politely. 

"She has spoken to me about repairing the broken relationship between our families... Aside from taking Eldon as my apprentice. He was a bright young man." Asar's dark eyebrows furrowed with regret, "I am sorry for your loss." 

Lunete finally put up a dainty hand, beckoning the waiter and ordered a light Antivan coffee with a chuckle, "With Valdis' genetics, I'm surprised my late son got off half as well." 

Asar ordered a sweet wine, as Lunete spoke so easily and so negatively about her son so shortly after his passing. She could have the decency to  _ pretend _ she was grieving. 

"Your daughter has had quite the change of heart, hasn't she?" The Lady spoke with a knowing smile that seemed soft, with a touch of bitterness. 

Asar smiled, a strange feeling blooming in his chest at the mention of Aria, "Yes, I am glad that her passion about working together with others has returned." 

"Though there was no love lost between Eldon and Aria." 

Lunete was right in that aspect. Aria and Eldon's rivalry had never been a secret. 

"I don't think it helped that Aria took her future in her own hands." The Ex-Commander rubbed the small, trimmed beard on his chin. 

Aria had been promised to Eldon at a young age. Though that changed drastically as she fought for her love for Felix Alexius. 

"Eldon missed his chance." Lunete waved a hand dismissively, "But I did not come here to discuss my late son's regrettable choices. I came here because I wanted to reach out and accept the Levine's most gracious help." 

A moment of pause as the waiter brought forth a small porcelain cup full of steaming brown liquid and waited rather anxiously for the Lady Magister to take a sip. 

Once she did, she gave her appreciation with the barest of nods, and the waiter excused himself to bring Asar's wine. 

Asar instantly took notice that the waiter didn't ask if Lunete wanted cream, sugar, milk or lyrium in her coffee. Even the best waiter's make sure that their patrons have their 'usual'. This waiter did no such thing. 

When the young man came back, and quickly at that, with Asar's wine. While he poured the wine, the Magister took noticed of the boy's slightly shaking body, but unshaking hands. Practice with his hands, but not his body language. 

Asar was thankful, for once, that his eye for people didn't leave him. Lunete was playing Tevinter's politics, not here because she was authentically taking the Levine's help. Asar was trained enough to notice that the few anxiously waiting staff who were present did not belong here. 

The Levine family had come into this small cafe enough times to know when there was a change of staff. The group knew how to handle themselves in a professional environment, but even still, looked too long for something that made Asar's theory true: These were Lunete's personal servants. 

Never in Asar's career had he seen Lunete's paranoia make her so sloppy. 

"We would be most delighted." He smiled, picking up the glittering crystal glass with a soft grip and a slight toasting motion, "To bridges." 

"To bridges." Lunete agreed with a smile and a gentle clink of porcelain to crystal. 

May they be built. 

Or may they burn. 


	27. The Things I Do For Love

They returned in the middle of the night, just as they had left. A long journey only made longer by the Warden's silence. 

Elanda was given more clues, and that in itself was success. But even in her success, there was failure. Clues became a longer string that she was chasing, clues weren't hard evidence of a possible cure. The Warden felt like these clues were just a long line of more things to waste her time. And that meant failure.

With so much time having already been wasted chasing something, it was getting harder and harder to process failure. 

_ "You'll come up with something, my dear." _ Alistair cheered her on,  _ "You always do."  _

_ But why can't I come up with something now? _

The words almost left her lips, but Dorian's exclamation of surprise brought her to a state of alert and out of her darkening thoughts. 

The Warden didn't expect Maevaris to be waiting for them in the middle of the night and became instantly full of dread. Though Maevaris didn't seem to be moving, nor upset. She wore a decidedly amused expression as she waited for them patiently. 

"What a pleasant surprise." Dorian chirped, excited to see someone else- as well as excited about the prospect of hearing someone else's voice. Even if it was his own. 

The Magister wasn't dressed for alarms either. She wore a regal and sleek jade evening gown and held a light, but elegant shawl over her shoulders. The closer they got Elanda could see the peacock feather pattern along the body of the shawl, as well as some minor beadwork to accent it in the light. 

None of it gave answers to why she was waiting out in the middle of the night. 

"You look  _ suspiciously _ like the cat that swallowed the pigeon." Elanda grunted, getting off the horse. 

"Canary." The Lady Magister corrected without a second thought, making the Warden lose her own thought process. 

Zevran's boisterous laugh came with the clearing of Elanda's throat and the chuckling of her other traveling companions. Though it made the Warden's heart ache further. 

"The Warden does make a point though." Dorian interjected, chuckles still peppering his speech, though he did not understand Zevran's laughter, "You do look like we've had a victory." 

"Because we have." The blonde explained, "I wanted to tell you the good news tonight, rather than wait until morning." Maevaris paused for dramatic effect, "Our merry little band of misfits got bigger... Though it has got to be the strangest way I've ever seen anyone recruited." 

"Then I have quite the tale for you." Zevran chuckled. 

The smile that crossed the Magister's face was knowing, though Elanda wasn't sure if the woman actually knew something or if this was just her normal look. It made the Warden's stomach turn. 

"They want to join the Lucerni and be trained personally by you." The Magister continued, her blonde brow raising and a smirk curling her lips when the Warden raised her own brow. 

"Me?" Suspicion settled in Elanda's stomach, but continued to ask, "Why?" 

"They have no talent for magic." Maevaris explained, "And apparently they needed some time to recover from the beating you gave them." 

"Beating?" Elanda struggled to remember, she'd gotten in so many fights recently that it was hard to backtrack her current history. 

But Dorian seemed to remember, "The Tavern squabble. Two men, drunk, got a bit too..." He made a hand motion, as if it was to explain a word he couldn't find. 

"Tavern squabble?" The Antivan grinned, "I can't leave you alone for a moment, can I?" 

The Warden shrugged, "They got one." 

Zevran nodded understandingly, "They always do."

"Was this after I left? I vaguely recall two men staring in your direction." Fenris intrigued, only having Elanda nod. 

"Are they both here?" The Warden questioned the blonde Tevene, only to have her nod, and the Ferelden walked her horse to the small stable, getting the saddle and bridle off the mare, "Good. It will give me something to do in the meantime. Their training begins after breakfast. Make sure they eat light and drink water." 

The Warden excused herself and prepared for her first 'recruits'. 

The morning came fast and she waited patiently. Elanda dressed in a dark blue tunic, with white accents along the seams, plain black trousers, and her Ferelden brown boots. Training was always rigourous, and even more so on their first day. She was going to push them to their limits just to see what they could do. 

"I hope you two fight better when you haven't been drinking." She smirked as they walked in, completely changed from the first time she saw them in the tavern. 

The haggard looking facial hair had been trimmed and groomed from one, and completely removed from the other. It didn't take long for the clean shaven man to place a clenched fist over his heart and bow. 

"I wanted to apologize for my behaviour, Warden." He explained, his dark hair cut short enough to see his scalp, "It was unacceptable." 

Her shoulders relaxed, and her grey eyes became distant. She was the last person to judge what was unacceptable. The Warden was glad that they picked a fight with her, and not someone else less capable. 

"We all do unacceptable things at one point or another." 

"But we do fight better." The other grinned, his blonde hair slicked back with a bare amount of water. 

The distant look instantly left, and was replaced with a mischievous glint, "I guess we'll see about that. But I like to know my recruits by name before I train them." A true statement, as she had written to Weisshaupt about the failed Joining recruits once too often. 

"I'm Faron." The blonde interjected, "And this is Eiran." He pointed to the other man who seemed insulted that he couldn't speak for himself. 

Elanda always looked forward to wiping the smirk off of the arrogant, "Well, Faron and Eiran. I," She placed her hand over her chest, where her necklace resided beneath her tunic, "Am Warden-Commander Elanda Cousland." 

They had expected Warden. But not Warden-Commander and she enjoyed the look of shock across their faces. 

"Attack me." 

Zevran watched from a higher angle, as he always did when he watched her spar with another. He watched as the two men exchanged uncertain glances about attacking a Warden-Commander, though if the story Dorian had told him last night, they had no qualms about attacking her while drunk. But Elanda always had the ability to wipeout the more un-charming abilities in others. But he could also see the enjoyment she found in training, even if it was in the most unkind fashion. 

This was a regimen he hadn't seen before. She was having them build their hand-to-hand combat skills first. 

Whether it was to assess their movements to see what weapons might workout for them, Zevran had no clue. He didn't spot any weapons, not even training wooden ones. So what was her plan? 

His thoughts were driven back by a woman's laughter. His golden eyes quickly scanned the small yard and saw Elanda laughing with both men on the ground. She waved her hand dismissively, saying that it was nothing, but of course, Zevran knew better. It was a pleasant surprise, her laughter, and it made his own genuine grin appear on his face. Though the only man who could get her to laugh like that was sitting very uncomfortably in Denerim castle. 

Would she ever return? And if she did, would she return alive? 

It was a worry Alistair had expressed before he had asked Zevran to look for her along his own travels. 

_ "If you find her... Tell her I love her."  _

Zevran didn't need to tell her. Elanda already knew. He could see it by the way she gazed longingly at the ring on the necklace in her time alone, giving it the gentlest of kisses before turning back into the harsh Warden she had to be. But Zevran felt as if he'd be doing them both a disservice if they weren't reunited. Elanda's quest for the cure was... Grand in the overall scheme of things. Zevran knew she would fight and search until her last dying breath. Which is why he had written to Alistair. He didn't want either of them to break a promise they had made to each other time and time again. 

_ I swear to be there with you at the end. _

The elf found himself chuckling, nearly forgetting how much of a romantic he was. 

“The things I do for love…” 


	28. In The Market

"When can you have a training sword prepared?" Elanda asked after a moment of looking around a blacksmith's shop. 

Eiran and Faron had made considerable progress in the past few days, and an upgrade for the two was in order. The two men would  be in the marketplace very shortly for a quick test. Nothing too physical, that she had gotten out of the way. 

As she thought about the weapons her recruits could use, Elanda began to think about their personalities as well as their hand-to-hand combat. Faron could use an expensive education on manners, but perhaps the overconfidence was apart of his charm. Eiran was soft spoken but observant. In the hand-to-hand, Faron was the more flashy, grabbing your attention while Eiran came from behind and hit you in critical areas. They were a duo, and had been for clearly a long amount of time. But she didn't bother to ask how they knew one another. As long as they fought well together, that's what mattered. 

"How many do you need, Warden?" 

Elanda had almost forgotten she was wearing her silverite. Of course, those around her never forgot. 

She took a moment for pause, would she need one for herself? She had her own sword, of course. Though it seemed unfair to use it against Eiran and Faron, as it was just training. 

_ "When is life ever fair?" _ Morrigan commented with a harsh tone.

The voices were becoming harder and harder to ignore. The Warden could almost feel the swamp witch's cross glare. But it didn't stop her from being right. Life wasn't fair. They would be tested every fight of every day, and sometimes they would be against the odds. 

Their training shouldn't be any different. 

"Two." She responded, taking a closer look at some of the swords that were being sold as replicas of the various heroes throughout history. 

It was no surprise, as Tevinter was historical down to their current day architecture. Old buildings that were crumbling around them simply because of their history, and yet... They were still crumbling. In Ferelden if a building had history it was constantly maintained, she had learned the lesson to preserve at Highever. She would argue that preserving memories and history was her first lesson during the Fifth Blight. 

The only weapon missing in this collection was Andraste's spear. 

This was also no surprise, as in Tevinter, Andraste wasn't an Alamarri warrior, but instead, a mage. 

Why they found it less damning to burn one of their own, she had no clue. Tevinter was a strange country to an outsider. 

_ "Elanda if you wanted those men to learn, you should rethink how you train them." _ Leliana spoke out,  _ "Approach them on even footing." _

_ "And tell me this," _ Morrigan started once again,  _ "When we ventured into the Deep Roads, did the Darkspawn approach us with 'even footing'? Or the Archdemon when it came down upon Denerim?" _

_ "These are men, Morrigan. Not monsters."  _

A scoff came from the witch,  _ "This is the real world, not one of your _ **_fairy tales_ ** _. Men **are** the monsters."  _

"You're... From Ferelden, aren't you?" 

Elanda had forgotten she was in a public place, if she were honest. She was so intently listening to Morrigan and Leliana bicker as if they were right here... But they weren't. Just voices that were growing ever so louder.

It was a troubling sign. 

"I am..." The Warden replied, turning to look at the burly man cautiously with a raised eyebrow. 

"Then maybe, since I see you eyeing my replicas, you can answer a few questions for me." 

It was a simple enough request, and innocent in nature.

"What would I be able to answer for you? You have most weapons here already." 

"I was hoping you would know what the Hero of Ferelden's sword looked like." 

A kind smile graced the face of the Warden, probably for the first time, in a long time, "It was grey iron before silverite." Elanda found no harm revealing it to the Tevinter blacksmith, and it was a strange turn, being completely open with a stranger, though she would have loved to show him her sword- the sword that she wasn't carrying at the moment, "The pommel is engraved with a laurel crown and the grip was just leather hide before that too was replaced by dragonling scales." 

Of course she remembered it well. At the Temple of Sacred Ashes, her sword broke, the grey iron shattering against the trials that were within. She was so distraught about the sword of her family breaking- it was all she had... And after a few days spent in Denerim, her blade was returned to her, by Alistair. Silverite replaced the grey iron blade, perfectly tempered and sharpened. 

She wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. 

"You sound like you held it." 

"Replicas." A bold faced lie, "Lots of replicas in Ferelden, given the circumstances." After clearing her throat of emotion, she brought both of their attentions to the original reason she'd come, "So you'll have my training swords in a few days?" 

When the blacksmith nodded, the Warden began to pull out a coin pouch, but the man put up a single hand in refusal. Not that Elanda paid much mind to it. She saw his hand go up, and his head shake, but she always believed when someone worked, they got paid. 

"I insist." 

The woman sighed and tied the coin satchel once again, putting it back inside a leather pouch around the front of her waist. 

"Thank you." She gave him a formal bow with her fist over her heart. 

"Between you and me, Warden..." He leaned in, and she followed, as his voice had dropped dramatically in volume, "You're taking some of these scumbags off the streets and improving the lives of us 'lower class soporati'." 

The term was said with a clear distaste, and Elanda felt glad that she could improve someone's life while she was here. But it made her think of home, did she, while in Denerim castle, help the elves in the alienages across Ferelden? Did she help the mages in the towers? Did she help the poorer folk in Ferelden? 

These questions weighed heavily in her mind and stomach as she murmured something about doing the best she could and excusing herself. 

It felt like a betrayal. To improve another country before helping the people in her own. She had helped them, right? 

_ "You saved them from certain destruction. _ " The Swamp witch's exasperated voice was clearly done with Elanda's self doubts,  _ "'Tis true that a Grey Warden is the only thing that could defeat an Archdemon for good, but you could have very easily turned and ran away. After all, what has Ferelden's people done for you?"  _

Elanda felt the familiar bile rise in her stomach as she found a spot that overlooked the marketplace. None of the thoughts were good. 

_"I, for one, believe you have given them plenty, but the greedy populace will still demand more out of you."_ Morrigan continued, and it sounded as if she was leaning against the rail next to her, yet when Elanda looked in the direction; there was nothing. 

Howe had killed her family- save for her older brother, Loghain had murdered Ferelden's Grey Wardens, save for Elanda and Alistair. Loghain had put a bounty on their head in a time of tragedy and made good people attack her so they might feed their families, he had murdered King Cailan, and even sent an assassin- 

"You look deep in thought, Warden." Zevran's musical voice brought her out of her thoughts. 

"I was." She admitted, her grey eyes refocused before Elanda turned her head towards him with a softer frown, "Thank you." 

"May I ask what you were thinking about?" He didn't like the sad frown that had conquered her face, and though he had felt strongly towards her, in his own way, he knew that it would never be the same. And he would always treasure her friendship, for as long as he lived. 

And even though the question had gone asked, he still was unsure if she would answer. 

"I... Was thinking about what Ferelden's people have done for me." 

"And that would be?" 

"Nothing good." 

A somber statement, but one that Zevran, being the optimist he was, would try to make her see the brighter side of things, "I don't think that's as true as you want to think." 

The ruby eyebrow that raised from the woman demanded an explanation, one Zevran was more than happy to supply. 

"Without the Ferelden people, you would not have Alistair." 

The thought made the woman's frown blossom into a grateful, but sad smile. No doubt quietly lamenting her only regret was not being at her husband's side. 

"I suppose you're right..." 

Zevran counted her smile, although sad, as a victory. His golden eyes spotted her two recruits walking through the marketplace which brought him to the original question he had for her. 

"So, I know why you need them here, but why do you need me here?" 

A low chuckle bubbled from the Warden's chest as she leaned on the railing, "I want you to pick their pockets." 

The Antivan raised his golden eyebrow, "I do love a good thieving, but these are your recruits. Why do you want me to pickpocket them?" And even though he asked, his tone was entirely amused. Elanda had a reason for everything.

"It's their second test of awareness," She watches the two men from below look around for the Warden, but neither of them look up into the balconies, "And they've failed the first part." 

"First part?" Zevran questioned, watching the Warden begin her descent down the stairs, "Which was?" 

"To find me. Now go take their coin." And with that, the Warden disappeared, and Zevran shortly behind. 

"I just want to find the Warden and tell her we should get out of here as fast as we can." Eiran murmured, "I spotted that Sinclair fellow a few booths back-" 

"Oh, Sinclair's no big deal." 

"Faron, it's not everyday you manage to falsely have a woman run away with you." 

"I didn't even meet her on the boat." The blonde argued, "Besides, it's not my fault she-" 

"I'm glad you two are rather comfortable in your surroundings." 

The Warden's voice made both men jump, Faron swore in Tevene, while Eiran went to grab the knife at his belt. 

"A good response." Elanda frowned, watching the man relax and take his hand from the knife, "But late. I'm going to also assume that neither of you realize that your coin pouches are gone." 

"Late and broke." The ex-Crow chimed in, dangling the coin pouches in his hands. 

"Awareness is something both of you need to focus on." The Fereldan sighed, "I've-"

**"** **_You._ ** **"**

Elanda raised a red eyebrow to see who the accuser was, and who they might be pointing out. Not to her surprise, it was her, and she recognized him immediately. 

"Feeling naked without your sword, Elanda?" Zevran teased, though knew from first-hand experience that the Warden didn't need her sword or shield to be dangerous. 

It was the same man from her first visit. She had possession of her sword then, but didn't use it, on account of Dorian's advice. This was his country after all, and everybody gets one. It didn't stop her from regretting her decision. She had freed a slave from his grasp with Conscription. From the looks of it, he was still rather sore about it. 

And just as before, he had brought friends. 

_ "Ponce in a dress didn't learn the first time, eh?" _ Oghren grinned,  _ "Let's give'm another more permanent taste..."  _

"You should know by now, Zevran." Elanda reached into her boot and took out a small dagger, "I never go anywhere fully naked." 

"That would be quite the site..." The Antivan hummed, staring off into the sky as if imagining it, only breaking character when Elanda gives him a playful punch in the shoulder. 

Elanda had a plan to goad the boy into making him mad and attacking her once again. Self defense was a great argument, especially when there were a dozen or more people watching. It wouldn't take much with how angry he already was. 

"Servius Sinclair, is it?" Faron spoke, stepping forward with a smile and shooting a wink towards the Warden, "It has been some time..." 


	29. Have Lunch With Me

All eyes were on them.

Unfortunately. 

Elanda had to play this extremely carefully. Without Dorian, she had no idea what the protocol was for the second violent interaction with an enemy. 

Because she was really regretting not killing him now. 

“I don’t have any business with  _ you _ , sellsword.” Servius spat at Faron, teeth bared in an attempt at intimidation. 

But Faron merely looked insulted, stopping dead in his tracks to put a hand over his heart, dramatically scoffing as if wounded, “Well, that’s rude. After  _ all  _ I’ve done for your family.” 

Eiran spared a worried glance between Servius and Faron. Surely he knew what he was doing? Especially after what happened? Was it wise to even say that? 

But Servius didn’t seem bothered, which made Eiran’s limited hair stand up further on his neck. 

The Sinclair family was  _ infamous  _ for striking when they appeared calm and collected. 

But the strike never came. 

Instead, Servius heavily sighed, and gripped his staff tighter, in irritation, “I don’t have business with you.  _ Just the Warden.”  _

“Well, unfortunately, that does mean you have business with me.” Faron shrugged, motioning to himself as well as Eiran, his silent companion, “We are her conscripts.” 

Elanda hid her shock behind a glance to Zevran who raised an eyebrow at the Warden, who in turn, merely clenched her jaw. It was a smart move, to not show cluelessness in a situation like this; but Zevran could tell that this was not a decision she made. 

The elf that she had freed under the Right was just a farce. Elanda had no intention of putting anyone else through the Joining. Unless times were both dark and desperate. And at the moment; times were neither. 

So to hear that she had not one, but two willing conscripts… The Warden-Commander would have to ask the seriousness of their claims when she was able to get the chance. 

“Conscripting everyone you feel sorry for, Warden?” 

The Ferelden grit her teeth and tensed her hand around her blade, her tongue beginning to voice a rebuttal, but the blonde Tevene warrior had beaten her to it. 

“Sinclair.” He started again, not allowing the limelight to leave him, “I would hate to oust you in front of the marketplace. It would be entirely embarrassing for you.” 

The mage rolled his eyes, “And what information do you have that could possibly ‘oust me’.” 

“Sloppy of him.” The Antivan chuckled, “And exactly how long has he lived in this country?” 

“I’ve been inside your home,” Faron’s voice suddenly boomed, “And I’ve seen you practice blood magic.” 

The blonde was calm as he said the words, and the mage now known to Elanda as Sinclair recoiled as if the words were a fire that was too hot. 

“Then it’s you I feel sorry for,” Faron continued, now crossing his arms and shaking his head, “Not having enough power at your disposal… That makes you barely more than a Soporati, doesn’t it?” 

Now, this was the second or third time Elanda heard that word, and knew by the look on Servius’ face, that it was meant as an insult… One he did not take kindly to. 

“You want to see power, pathetic sellsword?” He growled, taking an ornate knife from the sheath at his back, “I’ll show you-” 

A gauntleted, glowing hand protruded from the mage’s chest, holding a heart.

Whether it was because of the recent attacks on magisters, or Elanda’s previous squabble with Servius; but when Fenris’ gauntleted hand ripped the heart from his chest, the market stood still in horror. As if this couldn’t be real. 

Panic set in once the heart stopped beating, the mages went for Fenris, but he quickly withdrew his hand, threw down the organ with disgust before taking a white wraith-like form and quickly disappearing. 

Templars were quick to surround them, coming from seemingly no-where. A trait that they shared with their southern brethren, and did not give Elanda any comfort. 

“Now I’m feeling naked without my sword.” The Ferelden muttered, keeping her dagger in her hands as the group had their backs against each other, watching as the circle grew tighter and tighter to them. 

“Not to mention your armour and shield.” Zevran teased, though responded by the Warden rolling her eyes, trying to assess their odds with the Templars. 

Why hadn’t they attacked? What were they waiting for? 

The Antivan looked to the Warden, and she saw the same question go through his mind. 

Zevran was the most prepared to deal with them. He never went anywhere without his daggers; even during Alistair and Elanda’s wedding and coronation. He joked about being the ‘assassin’s assassin.’ 

The Templars were steadfast, keeping their swords pointed in their direction, but not moving forward. 

“What are you fucking waiting on?” One of the ‘friends’ of Sinclair whined, the bloodlust clear on his face, “They killed Servius, they have to be brought to justice!” 

“But what is justice in Tevinter?” A deep voice came from behind the Templars making them snap to attention so fast, that if it wasn’t for where she was, she might have thought they were Southern Templars standing attention to the Divine. 

The man came through with sun-kissed skin, blue eyes, and a long, black, meticulously groomed beard. The long robes were made of teal silk, and gold trim. A twin snake gold staff hung at his back, and it was obvious to anyone with eyes that he was a mage. Could a mere Magister have influence over so many Templars? 

For the sake of the Lucerni, she sincerely hoped not. 

“Archon Radonis.” The friend instantly changed his tune, making a formal Tevene bow, “What an unexpected, but delightful surprise.” 

“I’m sure it is for you.” The Archon replied, keeping his sapphire hues on Elanda, not daring to move from the woman who was the most interesting person in the market square. 

To think he had come here for… He couldn’t even remember. 

The Warden’s steely gaze never left the Archon’s. She knew better than to attack the leading voice in Tevinter’s politics, or at least one of the leading voices. Elanda knew she wasn’t able to win this conversation with the skin of the warrior. But when was the last time she played ‘The Game’ as a Queen? 

Regardless, it had to be done. 

Elanda sheathed the dagger back within her boot, and bowing in the formal Ferelden fashion. 

“My apologies.” She started out, “You have me at a disadvantage. I’m not quite sure how to address someone of the Archon status.” 

The Archon smirked, leaning on his twin snaked staff, clearly amused by having a Grey Warden off her footing. 

“Archon Radonis is fine, but I only make the people I rule over use my title.” He chuckled, “I do not rule over a Warden. Or her companions.” A simple head motion made the Templars lower their weapons. 

“But if I don’t respect your rule as Archon, even as someone who doesn’t live in Tevinter, then what example will you make of me or my companions?” Elanda raised an eyebrow, still giving the submissive body language, though keeping track of which Templars were uneasy about the Archon’s silent order. 

His grin widened, and Elanda had the sinking suspicion that she became that much more interesting. 

“As I understand it,” Radonis started out, picking an imaginary lint from his shoulder, “Wardens get famished quite often.” 

It was an understatement and Elanda resisted the urge to roll her eyes or scoff. She- or any Warden could easily have six large meals a day and it still wouldn’t keep the hunger at bay. An effect of the taint they took in their bodies. 

But surely there was a reason why he was bringing this up? 

“Have lunch with me.” 

Elanda’s grey eyes narrowed. This was not an event she would have expected to come from today… But she wasn’t in a position where she could refuse. 

“A gracious offer, Archon.” She bowed once again, “Allow me to give my two conscripts instructions and I shall follow…” 


	30. Chapter 30

“Warden…” Zevran murmured as soon as she got closer.

“Is this a wise idea?”

“It’s not the best idea I’ve ever had.” Elanda replied with a heavy sigh, “But an audience with the Archon is… Not an opportunity to pass up.”

“Shes right.” Eiran crossed his arms,

“We’ll go back to Pavus’ Estate and regroup.”

* * *

 

After so long of not living in lavish conditions like Denerim palace, Elanda felt strongly out of place as she sat with Archon Radonis… For a _simple_ lunch, in a simple, but _decidedly empty_ cafe on the edge of the market.

Luncheons, even in Ferelden were _never_ simple.

You had to know which Bann or Arl to flatter, or which one to ignore. In short, politics were never easy. But in a land where she knew  none of the customs and none of the names of those in power, her lack of current political understanding and tevene culture leaves her unable to get a leg up in their current predicament

The Warrior took note of her surroundings. The Templars who were pointing their swords at her moments before were scattered around, in by no means random places: two merely five feet away, these would be the first to try and kill her if she even got a toe out of line.

Armor weak around the neck, use the first as a meat shield before slicing the neck and grabbing his actual shield for protection.

Next two: near the door facing inwards. Now she has a shield; block, parry, swing, kick, swing swing. Both Templars are dead. Two more outside the door, would have heard the fighting, and she’d be stabbed from the back, dead before she could exit the building.

The Queen sat straighter in her chair, making a mental note to not do anything that would threaten the Archon outright.

“You have caused quite a wave, Warden.” Archon Radonis spoke as an Elven boy poured wine.

Elanda looked at the young boy, and though his face was free of markings, the Warden knew he was a slave. Elanda burned the boy’s face in her mind. She would see him freed. She had to.

The slaves to the Tevinter Archon versus servers from the cafe were obvious; they wore far simpler versions of his teal robes, but instead of wearing the golden trim around the end of their arms, as their master did, the heavy gold trim was around their neck, a collar. A disgusting, not so subtle way of making his claim upon their persons. They were just more reasons that the Lucerni needed to press forward with their agendas.

But she was now stuck in the middle of a dilemma: Does she pour her energy into helping the Lucerni reform Tevinter? Or does she continue her search for the cure?

Granted… It was an easy, but selfish decision.

_“I warned you that love is ultimately selfish, Warden.”_ Wynne chastised, _“But you have been searching for so long. It would destroy you if you gave up now.”_

A hum of thought escaped the Warden’s throat before turning her gaze to the Archon.

“You wouldn’t be the first to say so.” Elanda replied cooly, shaking her head as the Elven slave went to pour her a cup of wine.

“No.” Radonis smirked, “I imagine not. Wardens have an interesting way of complicating things.”

“Or making things simple.” She raised a red eyebrow, “It’s easy to unify a country when a Blight is on the horizon.”

“Is it?” The Tevene chuckled, “I don’t have any experience in dealing with a Blight.”’

An interesting trap. The Archon was trying to figure out who she was. How he could use her to his advantage, no doubt.

It was difficult to take herself out of her current position and remove all of her previous history. It was her and Alistair that brought Ferelden together and stopped the Blight. In just a year.

It was _very_ difficult.

“Grey Warden action would be swift no matter the country or nation.”

And it was true. Nobody liked Tevinter (at least nobody outside of Tevinter), but everyone hated the Blight even more.

“I would certainly hope so with Weisshaupt being so close.” He raised his wineglass and took a sip, his eyes still not moving from her.

It was unnerving, but he wasn’t the worst of anyone or anything that has ever... leered at her.

He was trying to goad something out of her, and Elanda could see the barest hint of frustration in his eyes. The political game of cat and mouse wasn’t new to her, but he would do well to hide even the slightest hint of emotion.

If she had been from Tevinter, she would have capitalized on his irritation, as well as his cluelessness. But right here, right now, Elanda Cousland was merely a Warden.

“So you’ve involved yourself with the Lucerni.”

Elanda leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms, staring at Radonis with a frown.

“Grey Wardens don’t get involved with politics.” It was a phrase she had repeated throughout her years outside of Denerim Palace. There were a few Wardens that attempted to make her feel bad about the hypocrisy, but they were there.

Ferelden was better because of her decisions. Guilt-tripping Elanda wasn’t going to happen.

The Archon nodded, but Elanda got the feeling that he already had an opinion.

“Have you met the Hero of Ferelden?” He asked after he nodded.

And it was not the first time she had heard this question. But in Tevinter it was a different game altogether.

“Once and briefly.” The warden replied, keeping her hands in her lap.

“She’s certainly taller than people expect.”

That got the Archon to laugh and relax.

Elanda however was not relaxed, even though she chuckled and joked, each word was carefully chosen.

“Have you considered allying yourself with me?”

The Ferelden raised an eyebrow and put her cup down after a sip of water, “I thought I made myself clear when I said Grey Wardens don’t get involved in politics.”

“Then what does the Lucerni have that the Archon can’t give? It is well written within the Grey Warden Right of Conscription that they can recruit anyone they want, and I will not question you on that.” Radonis sounded methodical, his blue eyes glistening sharply not daring to even glance away.

“Information.” Elanda said simply and unflinchingly, “The Lucerni isn’t taken seriously by the more prominent Magisters within Tevinter, that one can learn by observing.” She raised a red eyebrow and wiped off imaginary dust on the fabric of her tabard, an indication of boredom- and an action that the Archon would take an an insult.

“You may not question my motives for conscription, but I find it insulting you would question a Grey Warden like this at all.” The Ferelden continued, “After all, if I wanted to harm your country in a clever manner, all I would have to do is conscript you, which as you’ve just stated, you won’t question me on at all.”

There was a moment between the Archon and the Warden where it was total and tense silence.

It had felt like too long of a moment for all of the slaves employed by Archon Radonis. Nobody had ever challenged him so brazenly. Who exactly did this Grey Warden think she is?

“How do you know I wouldn’t survive The Joining?”

“How do you know you would? Even if it didn’t kill you, you couldn’t continue to be Archon Radonis.”

“I believe the King and Queen of Ferelden may have some argument to that.”

Another challenge. One Elanda knew how to navigate.

“You think so?” The woman asked, her face carefully expressive, “Last I heard the King was having a get-together with Empress Celene.

Elanda sat back with her arms crossed, watching the ARchon as he carefully debated his next move or his next words.

Either way, Elanda had already assumed there would be an attempt on her life. It had already been in her mind the moment she agreed to have a lunch with Archon Radonis.

Quite frankly, she was disappointed that there wasn’t poison in the food or water.

Elanda took this moment to exploit the Tevene’s silence. In a conversation like this, when someone wasn’t speaking they were at a stand-off.

“However you didn’t invite me to talk about Ferelden politics.” She shifted comfortably in her seat, “And if you did, then you’ve made a poor pick, I haven’t been in Ferelden in quite a while.”

“So you’ve said.” The Archon stated, his lips terse with frustration.

With a nod, Elanda stood to wipe the imaginary dust off her clothing , dismissing herself from the table before the Archon called for her, making the Warden stop at the door.

“You are aware that the Lucerni can only get you so far.”

“You take individuals for granted, Archon.” Elanda adjusted the collar around her tunic, “And that will be your undoing.”

“Is that  threat, Warden?” Radonis growled, to which the Ferelden scoffed.

“Just telling you to be careful.” The Warden made a waving motion as she exited the cafe,  “Good afternoon, Archon.”


	31. Speaking the Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who's stuck with me for this long. Your comments are why I continue writing when honestly I barely feel like living. So to everyone who's stuck it out with me this far: I want to say thank you. Due to recent events I've started a ko-fi which is basically a small way of supporting me. If you want me to leave a link, please let me know in the comments.   
> I hope you all have a fantastic holiday season!

Dorian was pacing back and forth in the dining hall. Eiran and Faron had told him all that occurred within the marketplace. Being ‘worried for the Warden’ was putting it mildly. Whoever Elanda might have been before becoming a Warden, and he knew she had nobility from her handwriting alone, even that charismatic training wouldn’t be enough to face Archon Radonis. 

And the Archon had found her interesting enough to invite to a private lunch. It’s true, Elanda  _ was  _ causing quite the ruckus, but even still, worse had happened and the Archon didn’t even bother batting his expertly groomed eyelashes. 

Dorian knew she wouldn’t be prepared. 

On top of it all, Zevran was missing. The ex-crow was no doubt not far from the Warden, but that didn’t soothe the Tevene’s ruffled feathers any. Elanda was good for provoking fights with words alone, from the way Aria had bared her teeth at her on their first meeting. Even if Elanda breathed offensively (she was  _ Ferelden _ , so her very presence in Tevinter could be seen as offensive) then the Archon could find any number of reasons to start a war with Ferelden. 

Dorian’s mind became far too active for his own good and reached for his staff. 

“I wouldn’t grab your staff just yet, my friend.” Zevran’s voice echoed within the hall, the heavy footfalls of the Warden behind him. 

They were free of blood and gore which minorly soothed some of Dorian’s worry, but Elanda did not look pleased. 

“What happened?” The Magister asked slightly jumping the sudden sound of the Warden slamming her fist of the table, making the others jump as well. 

“He questioned my motives.” She growled, her nails slightly puncturing the skin in her palm. 

“That’s pretty standard…” Dorian trailed off, surely she must have known this? Nobles were bound to question the motives of anyone, especially one as enigmatic as the Grey Wardens,”Was there something else?” 

“He questioned  _ my choices, my alliances… _ ” The Ferelden was nearly frothing at the mouth, her fingers tapping on the table with a pressure and ferocity that Eiran thought the table might break beneath her hands. 

“What did you say to  _ that _ ?” The Magister asked cautiously, knowing full well he didn’t really want to know the answer, but wanted to prepare for the Archon’s possible (and most likely) retaliation. 

But the feral grin that erupted from the Warden’s lips, was enough to make his blood run cold. 

“I threatened him with Conscription.” 

Zevran’s face was the only one that was seemingly unphased, the rest of them held a horrified expression and they all took nervous glances at each other, as if to affirm that they all heard the same thing. The uneasy silence only broken up by Elanda’s boisterous bark of a laugh. 

“I’m glad  _ someone  _ finds this terrifying situation funny.” Dorian commented, the unease rolling in his stomach like a cold stone. 

“Terrifying?” Elanda questioned, head cocked to the side, the wide grin still on her face, “I find it  _ freeing _ .” 

She didn’t bother to elaborate, but no one asked, too afraid that the Warden had, in this moment, gone mad. 

“The Archon will come after you.” Eiran murmured, hoping that the reminder would return some sanity back to the Warden-Commander. 

The red head only snorted with amusement and rolled her grey eyes, taking a sip of the water that Zevran had placed next to her. She lifted up the cup in his direction before speaking once again. 

“He can get in line.” 

_ “You have gone mad.”  _ Wynne murmured with a distressed sigh. 

_ “For once, I agree with the old woman.”  _ Morrigan chastised,  _ “‘Tis one thing to make a common magister angry, but to make the very ruler of such a nation ‘tis another thing entirely.”  _

“He’s just a mage with a bloody title.” The Warden mumbled, taking another sip of the water from the small cup. 

“Sorry?” 

Her grey eyes looked wide as she looked from the cup to Dorian’s hazel orbs, realizing too late that she had spoken out loud. All eyes were now on her and she had merely an instant to come up with something fast to cover up such a mistake. 

“He’s just a mage with a title.” She repeated clearly, placing her cup on the table, “In the end he’s still just a man.” 

“A man with an entire army of mages at his beck and call.” Fenris argued, but only got a shrug in response. 

“Archon Radonis may be in power now,” The Ferelden smirked, “But let’s see how long that lasts.” 

Fenris and her two new recruits looked intrigued by the comment, Zevran held the look of amusement, while the resident Magister looked like he’d been made to swallow salted black licorice candy. Of course only Zevran knew of the things Elanda had done, and could still do, should she decide to get involved with Tevinter’s politics. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d gone against the Warden’s creed of not getting involved with politics, but this would be the first time she’d be getting involved with politics  _ voluntarily _ . 

He was eager to see the country completely uprooted by a Ferelden. 

“In any case, we need to begin your Tevene manners training,” Dorian announced with a grimace, only to have Elanda sarcastically chuckle as she sat down, taking her place at the table, “Can’t have you looking like a bunch of heathens in front of everyone in the Magisterium.” 

“I’m  _ Ferelden _ , Dorian.” The woman waved off, “I’m already a heathen.” 

The hazel gaze of the Magister met with the steel hues of the Warden and he began to wonder just how far down the path of madness she was… And if it was too late to save her.

 

* * *

 

It had been several hours until Dorian finally realized that maybe trying to cram twenty years of Tevene manners and etiquette into a single day wasn’t quite going to work. The Magister sighed and resigned for the evening once he saw that his lessons weren’t quite sticking. 

But it allowed Elanda to approach her Antivan friend about helping her learn another art: invisibility. 

“And now I need your help in learning how to get in and out without being spotted.” 

Zevran laughed at his friend until he realized her resolute expression wasn’t going to change. It had only been a few days after Dorian began teaching the ‘barbarians’ the Tevene way and of course, Elanda found herself an exception to most of it. She had spent some time in Orlais, and thought that she only needed a slight refresher on etiquette. Zevran wasn’t quite sure that would do, but whatever her decision was, he would stand by her, and most importantly, make sure that she wasn’t assassinated. 

“I don’t know if thievery is the best way to spend your time, my friend. It can be a slippery slope.” Of course he was joking. A good thief was a master at deciding what was good to steal and what was a priceless little trinket. 

“Besides, what would you do with this new found knowledge, even if I decided to give it to you?” The Antivan wasn’t going to tell her anything- that’s not how one learned, and if he knew Elanda (and he certainly liked to think he did) then she didn’t learn by people telling her something either 

“We’re going to  _ Minrathous,  _ Zevran.” She stressed the name of the city, the mage capitol, “If there was ever going to be a book on blood magic, it would be there and I  _ will _ have it.” 

The blonde Antivan loved seeing the fire behind her eyes and seeing it again only made him want to feed it further. 

“And you want to do this quietly?” He smiled, watching as her shoulders relaxed, sensing his teasing tone. 

It got a smirk from the woman, “As amusing as it was to watch Fenris rip the heart out of a magister’s son, it’s not exactly subtle.” 

Zevran nodded in agreement, “It would ruin the  _ lively time _ we’ll be having.” 

Elanda kept a slightly hopeful gaze on Zevran, but when she saw he wasn’t going to move from his stance, she sighed defeatedly, “Very well… I suppose I just have to get crafty.” 

He didn’t say it, but one of Zevran’ favorite things to do was to watch her solve puzzles, no matter how small. But more importantly, the Antivan saw the familiar spark of a scheme behind her silver hues. 

“Dare I say you're returning to your old self, Warden?” He teased with a grin.

The Ferelden woman chuckled and waved him off,”I am old, Zevran. I’m not going backwards.” 

“Don’t be silly, dear Elanda.” The elf chided, clicking his tongue disdainfully, “You look no more old than your flower.” 

Zevran wasn’t lying, but when she was happy it was as if they had stepped back in time, and he could almost see her laugh lines begin to return. Being unhappy aged her, and it broke his heart. Yes, the Blight was over, her kingdom reunited, the Ferelden people happy with her and Alistair’s rule… 

But she and her husband were dying. The assassin knew that the knowledge weighed heavily on her mind and the consequences of failure were getting heavier by the day. 

That being said: Elanda Cousland was no old maid, and he was more than happy to return even a small fraction of happiness to the dearest of friends. 

“Thank you.” 

Zevran’s grin grew wide and dramatically gave a bow. At that moment he could not have been happier to see at least a little of her stress and worry peel away from her shoulders. 

“Just speaking the truth, my dear. Just speaking the truth.”

 


	32. The Warden Arrives

Having been to Orlais, Elanda felt well versed in the social elite’s etiquette, and was prepared enough if her plan to steal from the Minrathous Circle didn’t go as well as she hoped… But even if it didn't, Tevinter Templars were nothing like their southern brethren. 

A week had passed and with the help of both Calpernia and Marius, the Warden had gotten a layout of the Minrathous Circle. She had a plan, a layout, there was just a few more things she needed- 

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. 

Elanda rubbed her eyes and adjusted her shoulders, unaware until now, on how stiff her entire body was. 

“Enter.” She called, and the door swung open with excitement. 

“Wonderful!” Dorian chirped as he entered the room, “I didn’t want to wake you from your beauty sleep.” 

Elanda very slowly turned her head to him with a raised eyebrow and an unamused expression. She knew he was just trying to be friendly, but it was easy to irritate the Warden when she hadn’t had a night (or several) of decent sleep. 

“Not that I don’t appreciate your company, Dorian,” Elanda started, his chipper attitude already making her slightly annoyed, “But what do you want? I have very important people to steal from.” 

Granted, she didn’t know if the book she wanted existed. Would her plan even work? The thought gave her a headache and she began massaging her temples. 

But her statement about theft seemed to be just the opening Dorian was waiting for, “Even when I was at the Winter Palace, I required the proper attire.” This comment was followed by a cheeky grin, “It’s time you try on your Tevene clothes.” 

Elanda had nearly forgotten about the fitting that happened… Sweet Maker, had it already been several weeks? Time had flown by so fast, and yet… It had felt like she had nothing done at all; minor disturbances in the Imperium’s elite, killing a few magisters, and meeting the Archon (which they were still waiting for his retribution), but still nothing of any real value towards her own goal.

_ “This should be pleasant…” _ Alistair grumbled and this time, Elanda didn’t bother to hide the amused smirk. 

“Best to not keep Linios waiting then.” The Warden may have forgotten about the fitting, but she did remember his name, there was no other option. Elanda wanted to remember every person she encountered along the way, for her own personal reasons. She couldn’t help herself at the moment, but by remembering the names of those who ‘didn’t matter’ to society, she was helping them by subtly saying ‘you do matter’. 

Maybe when this was all over, Linios could make a better life for himself… As could every slave in Tevinter. 

The Warden looked at the candle that she had lit the night before and saw that it had long since reached the bottom. She could try to make a mental note to actually try and sleep, but she doubted that would actually happen with everything going through her mind. 

“I hope it’s nothing too outlandish.” Elanda shrugged off her tiredness, “For my own personal tastes.” 

Dorian answered with a chuckle that didn’t say much, and Elanda continued to follow the Magister through the hallways which were strangely empty. The Ferelden had pictured slaves beyond counting in a standard Tevene home. But she had to remember that none of the Lucerni were your ‘typical’ or ‘standard’ Tevinter Magister, with the exception of Aria. 

Dorian held the door open for Elanda, and they both could see Linios, the Nevarran tailor waiting for them with a pleasant smile on his face as he bowed. 

“Busy lately, Linios?” Dorian asked with a fair amount of amusement. 

“This latest event has had my skills tested most definitely.” Linios’ blue eyes glittered with mischief, there was a new light in his blue eyes that wasn’t there last time they had met. Perhaps things had gotten better for the elderly tailor. 

“Keeping up with the latest fashion trends can be entirely too difficult for an old man like me.” He joked, opening the first of many large traveling chests, “But with Lady Calpernia’s help, my job has been much simpler.” 

“She does try.” The Magister smiled, watching as the Nevarran begin to unfold clothes and make sure, probably for the hundreth time that there wasn’t a single flaw before placing them within the large and ornate wardrobe in the room. 

“For the Antivan, for Lady Maevaris…” He mumbled to himself, placing each outfit in it’s separate containers before going to the next and pulling out a bundle of blue, brown and silver clothing and handing it to Elanda. 

The Warden took it, though not before warily eying the bundle with a cautious eye, worried that Linios may have gone over the top with the outfit. 

The tailor laughed softly before smiling at the Warden, “I did my best to keep it as subtle as possible.” 

That didn’t truly help, if she was honest. Elanda has had a healthy dose of Tevinter in these last few weeks and there was nothing ‘subtle’ about any of it. However, she could use it to her advantage. 

So she began taking off her clothes again, unashamed, but not fondly. Dorian had the decency to glance away, though this time her undergarments covered more of her skin than the others. 

A long sleeved blue tunic top, with silver ornate swirls along the seam lines, silver feather clasps along the collar to hug her neck, dark brown trousers, that had the same silver swirls on the seams along with the occasional beaded feather until they tightened around her calves, to show off the powerful black and blue dragonling scale high heeled boots, adding at least two inches to her height. 

Though last but not least, Linios handed her a cloak that was mostly made of a sheer material, but around the shoulders and the ground it had heavily beaded silver feathers. 

“If one did not know better one would hardly recognize you.” Came the voice of Zevran as Elanda looked at herself in the mirror. 

“For the best.” Elanda murmured, habitually checking the sleeves and movement, lifting up her legs, her arms, walking back and forth with the added weight of her new cloak. Everything was in order. 

“If it were me, Warden,” The Antivan smirked, “I’d keep the cloak and the boots. They look quite good on you.” 

“I imagine the day of, they’ll have jewelry and a stylist for my hair.” The Ferelden queen sighed, “As they might do for you.” 

“For all of us.” The Magister chimed in, only to have Elanda’ gaze snap to him, “What, think we’d let you wander around the Tevinter elite without a decent hair cut, at least?” 

That much was true. She couldn’t hide her accent, but she could at least look important enough to blend in with Tevinter Magisters. At least long enough to get out of sight, provided she didn’t run into Aria or the Archon. But avoiding two Magisters shouldn’t be too hard. Not when she avoided Loghain and his men for nearly a year before ending the Blight. 

“Hiding in plain sight indeed…” Elanda looked back at herself in the mirror, with a good amount of face-powder, jewelry and a different hairstyle she could become a different person. 

Linios stepped up to the Warden, and she extended her arms to either side of her, letting the Nevarran measure and ‘hm’ at his heart’s content until he finally spoke, “Everything looks good, Warden.” 

“Thank you.” She murmured, beginning to take off the cloak and handed it to him. 

“My pleasure.” He softly smiled, folding the cloak with the utmost care, only to have Elanda glance at the ground, what would he have become if he wasn’t introduced to this life? Would he be making the royal family gowns in Orlais? Or would he be long dead due to the nature of ‘The Game’? 

“So your Warden friend… When are they supposed to arrive?” Dorian questioned, though wasn’t thrilled with Elanda’s shrug as a response, taking off the heeled boots. 

“From Weisshaupt can be a dangerous journey, and that’s assuming the First Warden even let him leave.” But with this comment, Elanda gave a short bark of a laugh, “Though honestly, my Lieutenant wouldn’t let the First Warden overrule one of _ my _ orders.” 

“Isn’t that insubordination? Can’t you be killed for that?” 

A snort left Zevran’s lips, though Elanda didn’t comment on it. 

“Even if what I have to discover might save all of the Wardens?” She let the question sink in, “It would be, but my people have more power in their opinions than the First Warden has power over the entirety of the order. The First Warden has more problems dealing with the political juggling of the Anderfels.” 

“So you don’t know when he’s going to arrive?” The Tevene questioned with a frown only to have Elanda look at him with a shake of her head. 

“I don’t know if he’ll even make it. Not that I doubt his abilities, but as I said before, the Anderfels _ is  _ dangerous.”

There was silence as Elanda undressed out of the formal Tevinter clothes and into her casual attire once again, only allowing Dorian to see the ring around her necklace for a split moment before it was hidden beneath her shirt. From Dorian’s perspective, she didn’t seem to trust anyone, and even Zevran, who had known her from Maker knows when, was put at an arm’s distance. What was she hiding? And what did Zevran know? It still bothered Dorian, but he knew that Elanda wouldn’t answer a single question unless she wanted to. 

The silence was only broken by a gentle tap at the door, “Lady Warden,” One of the servants spoke, making Elanda look up from putting on her boots that were thankfully level with the ground, “There’s a Warden waiting for you in the foyer.” 

“Almost like he knew we were talking about him.” Elanda grinned and stood up from her chair, thanking Linios one last time before leaving the room. 

“You’ve been exceedingly tight-lipped about your Warden ally.” Dorian commented, “All  _ we  _ know is that it’s a he, he’s good at mathematics and he’s an archer. That could be any number of people.” 

“It could be.” The Warden-Commander smirked, allowing Dorian to walk her through the hallways once again, hearing the occasional huff at the lack of information. 

When they arrived at the foyer the Warden in question still had his quiver and bow attached to his back and his hands were gently caressing an object from Dorian’s home, as if he was remembering something, thumb stroking the object until it was clean of any dust and grime it may have had. 

“Dorian Pavus, meet my mysterious Warden ally.” She announced, stepping over to the archer who pulled down his hood, “Felix Alexius.” 


	33. The Arrival of Letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 33 Chapters now guys! Can you believe it? :D  
> If you'd like to support me, and this fic, [ Here's my ko-fi!](ko-fi.com/steamyc)

He rolled and shifted, throwing the furs off him or pulling them back on him once again before rolling and twitching in his sleep. It had been a long time since the palace furs held the comfort of home. He never slept well, not since becoming a Grey Warden, and even worse after Elanda had left. But he had never faulted her for leaving. 

He was King of Ferelden now, and he had placed his duty over his comfort for a long time. But the only sort of comfort he had over the last few years were rumors of a wandering Warden, disappearing as fast as she appeared and the very seldom letter from her… 

Her letters curving into the next, sometimes jittery, sometimes smooth. Alistair collected and hoarded every single letter. Eamon had started proposing that maybe it was time. For a man who still had a wife, and child that Elanda worked so hard to save, Eamon was not being very understanding of Alistair’s pain. Not understanding of the heartbreak that rolled within his chest.

The King opened his tired caramel gaze and looked forlornly at the empty space beside him. It was maddening. He didn’t want to admit that he was beginning to forget what she sounded like, or how soft her laugh could be. Elanda was his wife, more than that, she was his soulmate and deep in his heart, Alistair knew she still breathed air. Even if he worried beyond belief every day. 

The King sighed heavily, throwing the furs off his body once again and throwing his legs over the side, wiping his face with his hands trying to push the exhaustion away. Some days were easier than others to ignore. He began washing off his face with cold water, and looking in the mirror just above it. Trimmed, proper, all of the things a Monarch should be… But sad. He pushed away these thoughts with a harsher wash of his face, or tried his best, but he knew that they would haunt him until he tried to sleep once again. 

It was barely dawn and Alistair was already dressed, ready to face the day to the best of his abilities. 

How many nobles had he seen this week? Alistair was starting to get annoyed with how they all brought unwedded ladies who were supposedly Alistair’s age. Granted, the king was nearly thirty and had no children of his own… His impatience wearing thin, and he had thought himself a patient man. Nobody seemed to understand the sentence ‘Grey Wardens can’t have children.’ Nobody. He could repeat the sentence until he was blue in the face, but they would fall on the court’s deaf ears everytime. It was another reason why Elanda left. 

Alistair had begun to see the way his goddess of a wife gazed at infants, cradling them if a woman asked her to give a blessing. And he knew it broke her heart to have to give it back. They tried. Maker, they tried. Granted, the process itself was extremely fun, but after several years of trying, nothing.

‘My lady, I don’t mean to offend…’ Alistair remembered a Bann awkwardly adjusting his footing as the man blushed, ‘Could you perhaps…’ 

He will never forget the look Elanda gave him, daring the Bann to finish his sentence, pinning him with his steely gaze. Of course she wore it on purpose, a low collared dress, her hair carefully brushed to one side of her neck, showing the loving marks Alistair had hungrily bestowed on her the night before. 

‘Please, Bann Lochnan, continue. Perhaps…?’ 

‘Perhaps you might try to retain some of your dignity.’ 

Elanda tapped her hand on the table before leaning forward, hands creating a bridge for her chin to rest on as she looked him square in the eye. 

‘And perhaps you might try to listen. I hear the murmurs of how I might be infertile. The truth is that I am. But so is Alistair. I want you to look at them real hard, Bann Lochnan, I want you to truly look at them. This is evidence we are trying, even past it being futile.’ All pleasantries dropped instantly, Elanda was not beating around the bush, even when she knew they wouldn’t listen, ‘Until you find a cure, Alistair and I can’t. Have. Children.’ 

She left that night. With whatever she could fit on her back. 

“Alistair?” Eamon asked, making the King slightly jump in his seat. 

“Sorry, Eamon, I just…” He was distracted. Distracted by the lack of sleep, the long absence of his wife, even Hafter was rather antsy today. Alistair at least had feelings that he and the Mabari shared: They both missed Elanda terribly. 

His uncle gave him a sympathetic look, though Alistair knew that he would never truly understand. No one really did. He couldn’t bear the thought of her being dead, and he could just feel that she wasn’t. But he didn’t know how to explain it to anyone without sounding like a lunatic, so the King generally kept his mouth shut. 

“This came in for you.” Eamon slid the folded letter towards Alistair, who raised a ginger eyebrow at it, “It’s a Tevinter seal.” 

The Ferelden King furrowed his eyebrows as he picked up the letter and brought over to his stationary table, taking the letter opener and slicing it open with precision. Breaking the dark maroon seal of a house sigil he didn’t really recognize. Though he felt a familiar magical pull, every mage was different, of course, but he couldn’t quite remember. 

Before he read the contents, his topaz gaze shifted towards the bottom and he saw the rather large swirling signature of Maevaris. Having a friend contact him after this much time felt pretty good, so when Eamon gave a raised eyebrow and an expectant look, Alistair made a wave of his hand, signifying everything was fine. 

_ Dearest Alistair,  _

_ First and foremost, I wanted to ask forgiveness for the rather lengthy period of silence. Tevinter has gotten rather busy as of late and the Lucerni are quite on our way to finally being a formidable political power. Tevinter may change within our lifetime, exciting isn’t it? We’ve gained quite a bit of allies as of late, and not all of them from the Imperium. We’ve recently rescued a Grey Warden from a small remnant group of the Venatori. _

If Maevaris didn’t have his attention before, she did now. Having to rescue a Grey Warden wasn’t a good sign, and his heart twisted in his chest, thinking the worst. 

_ Fear not, the Warden is safe now, but even still her accent is Ferelden, and it is more possible that this Warden is just one recruited by your better half, but I wanted to pass it by you, on the off chance that it was something more severe. She claims her name is Elanda Cousland.  _

His hand went to his mouth as he held in a breath. He tried to continue reading, but… His tears were too many in number. Alistair’s jaw tensed and his body began to gently shake with relief. She was alive. She was alive. 

_ She is in my care, for the most part, and hasn’t revealed very much, other than her name. Surely not all Grey Wardens are this brisque? In any case, she peaked my interest and I thought it might be information worth sharing. As always, Alistair, you are quite welcome in my home or in the home of my allies.  _

Alistair’s gaze quickly moved to Hafter and then back at the letter in his hand. She was inviting him to Tevinter. He had to go. Elanda was there. This was finally the first time in too long he knew his wife’s whereabouts. He had to see her. Everything in his body cried out for movement. 

But his mind, his mind told him to stay, to run his country. Because that’s what Elanda would want. To keep the country safe, and united, so that way they may rule together without the threat of the taint killing them when she returned victorious. 

“Alistair, what is it?” Eamon asked, noting Alistair’s sudden silence and sudden stillness. 

“I have to go.” The Ferelden king stated, without another second thought. 

“Go?” 

But Alistair was out of his chair, letter in his delicate grip, he didn’t want to damage the evidence that Elanda was alive…. It would be his only source of comfort on the long trip ahead. Well, it wouldn’t be that long. He would go across the Waking Sea and take the short route through the Free Marches and through Nevarra. It wouldn’t be that much of a short cut, barely shave off a few days, but a few days was better than nothing. 

“Go where? Alistair, please!” Eamon had finally caught up with him, making the King turn around and face him, both hands on the warriors shoulders to keep him in place, “Alistair, where are you going?” 

“Tevinter, Eamon. She’s there! Elanda is alive!” It didn’t take much for the Ex-Warden to squirm out of his uncle’s grip and begin his march to his chambers to begin packing; then he would go to the armory and grab his armor.

Of course Eamon had other ideas, but a few of Alistair’s knights knew of their kings heartbreak and wouldn’t let Eamon’s plans go unnoticed.

Eamon began walking to the kitchen to have a tea prepared for Alistair. Of course it would have a bit of a sleeping drought and have it served in his quarters, so he could sleep this mad idea off and hopefully come to the smarter conclusion of staying here and ruling his country. Not… Gallivanting off to the Tevinter Imperium. 

Now, on the other side, the knight’s of the king had heard him shouting the Queen’s name.  _ Elanda’s alive!   _ They heard it, just as everyone else must have. So, they began to polish the king’s Grey Warden armor. He can’t travel to Tevinter as the Ferelden King, that would attract too much attention, Grey Wardens though…. Grey Wardens could come and go as they pleased. 

However, refitting the King’s sword and shield would take a few days. The shield was old and well loved, it had been through the Deep Roads, werewolves, demons, darkspawn... The dents and scratches could be repaired but not completely removed. When the King and Queen returned, the knights would see about getting both of them a new shield.

But who knows what he would face while he was there? Better safe than sorry. So before Alistair had even gotten his tunic ready to put on, one of is knights knocked on the door. 

“Eamon, I’m not talking about this anymore.” Alistair nearly growled, throwing the object that he had in his hand, whatever it was, on the bed. 

“I’m not Arl Eamon, Sir…” A young knight’s voice replied, making the King raise his eyebrows and walking towards the door to open it. 

Alexander was standing at full attention, saluting the King before returning to a far more nervous standpoint. His short brown hair was a bit of a mess and it was obvious that Alexander had came from sparring- or at least committed himself to a sprint. 

Had Alistair shouted that loudly?

“Can I talk to you, sir?” The young man asked, probably no younger than Alistair, and yet, probably hadn't seen nearly as much fighting as the King had. 

Alistair let the man in closing the door behind him, but before Alistair got the opportunity to speak; Alexander beat him to it. 

“We stand with you, King Alistair.” He started out, before gazing at Hafter, “Phillip and I admire your want to go to Elanda, but we also wanted to tell you that we want you to be prepared. We’re sending your sword and shield to the blacksmith to have it fixed up for you-” 

For a moment, Alexander thought he was going to die from how hard Alistair was hugging the man. 

“But, I also, sir, I can’t…” 

“Ah, sorry sorry, I just… Thank you.” The King’s topaz gaze was watered, nearly spilling out of his eyes, his grip still on the knight’s shoulders. 

“I just think you should know that Eamon has a sleeping draught in your tea…” Alexander saw Alistair’s shoulders tense and the King stood straight, but the knight made a gentle motion for the king to calm down, “Take the tea, pretend as if you’re rethinking it, and Phillip and I will get you out when your sword and shield are ready. We’ll get a pack for you and everything. Don’t you worry about anything but bringing your wife back.” 

Immediately, Alistair noted the words:  _ your wife.  _ Not: Our Queen, not: the Queen. Alexander seemed unphased by the word choice, but it told the nearly sobbing Ferelden King that his knights, at least the one handpicked by he and his wife, cared about both of them. They must have noticed how the anxiety made him pace up and down the halls at night, or how he’d lock himself in his study with a bottle of brandy and tend to a week’s worth of duties in a single night- or maybe they were just tired of being his skirmishing partners.

Their king was wearing himself thin and driving himself distant from his people. The Knights were hoping that maybe seeing the love of his life  _ alive _ would do him some good. 

“Thank you…” Alistair murmured, unsure of how to react now that there was a plan in place, “It… This means a lot to me.” 

The young man smiled to the King and took a respectful step back to bow, “My pleasure, your grace… I shall report to you once your weapons and armor are repaired.” 

“Yes, please.” 

With that, the young knight left the King’s quarters and Alistair sat down on the royal bed. He was finally going to see her. After so long it seemed unreal. Even Hafter seemed to realize that  _ something  _ was happening when he padded his way into the room and looked up at Alistair, the whole backside of the dog moving with excitement. 

“Just a few more days, ol’ boy. Just a few more days…” 

What happened two days after that, nearly made him strap on the repaired armor and leave, whether Eamon was watching or not. This time: A letter from Zevran, only confirming that Elanda ‘might be in over her head’ in Tevinter lands. Of course, Alistair was inclined to disagree with the Antivan. Elanda had crowned a Dwarven king, saved a Dalish clan, saved the mages within Ferelden’s circle, saved Ferelden from itself  _ and  _ the Blight. She was a wonderful woman, a warrior goddess and his  _ wife.  _

She could do anything, and though Alistair was patient, the time for them to be apart was over. 

“Let’s go, Hafter. We have quite the journey ahead of us.”


	34. Pieces Falling Into Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to support me, and this fic, [ Here's my ko-fi!](ko-fi.com/steamyc)

“I still have a hard time believing you’re  _ alive.”  _

It had been two days and Dorian had woken up to hug Felix as his first action of the day- and that was saying quite a lot since he didn’t consider himself ‘affectionate’ to anyone  _ but  _ The Iron Bull. 

Elanda didn’t have to make Dorian swear not to tell anything, he already knew the significance. Felix was from a lineage that had been considered ‘dead’- Maker’s Breath, Felix had a  _ funeral.  _ It was hard to refute someone was dead after that. But here he was alive, breathing… And looking quite healthy, all things considered, even healthier than the last time Dorian saw him in Ferelden during the Inquisition. 

Felix could only smile, and for Elanda, the happiness he felt was another knife in her chest. Bittersweet in nearly all senses. She hadn’t saved him from death- not yet. She had only just prolonged it. Dorian and Felix both knew this as well, but the momentary happiness of seeing an old friend made them forget. 

“Warden Cousland didn’t want to make it known I was alive just yet.” Felix began to explain, “Politics have a nasty way of bringing in anyone- even people who have been out of them a long time. I’ve not spoken or contacted anyone since she took me to Weisshaupt.” 

“Then… I have more news for you.” Dorian sighed quietly, guiding his friend gently to sit in a chair, as the Magister sipped wine from the goblet in front of him, “People have changed since you died and I’m afraid it hasn’t been for the better.” 

First, Felix chuckled not really understanding, “Dorian, you  _ have  _ changed. The Inquisition did change you, and I have to say it has been for the better.” The younger man’s smile fell after his friend didn’t look him in the eye for a moment, “You’re not talking about yourself.” 

“I wish I was.” The mage sighed despondently, “Aria has not changed for the better.” 

The Fereldan’s stormy hues were downcast as her face settled in a frown. All good things must come to an end, and there was no good news without the bad. She only wished there was another way to tell him, but learning that a loved one had committed atrocities or became something darker… Was never a fun feeling. 

“What happened?” It was clear to Elanda by the way Felix asked that he still loved Aria, even as twisted and mangled as the woman was. It broke her heart that such a man could love such a woman.

Elanda didn’t have a high view of Aria, but the Warden didn’t have a high view of  _ herself  _ either. There were too many similarities between the two of them, the only difference being Elanda was trying to save Alistair from the toxic blood running through his system, while Aria was trying to rule Tevinter purely for a power grab. The Warden could see it and knew it was a matter of time before the others saw it as well… And she knew it would hit Felix the hardest. 

“You remember, after her grandmother died, how she locked herself in her room for days, only opening the door to grab another bottle of wine?” 

Another sentiment Elanda could relate to. Though instead of grandmother dying it was family being betrayed and in the place of wine it was killing darkspawn. Dealing with grief could turn even the best person into someone different. 

“After you died, she fled to Rivain. Once she came back, her blood magic practice increased, and she’s surrounded herself with…” The Magister struggled for the word, “Mercenaries. An Orlesian Reaver and a Rivaini Seer. They seem to be the  _ only _ company she wants to keep for an extended amount of time.” Dorian sighed, his hands now laying in his lap, “She’s a part of the Lucerni, but even I don’t know how deep her allegiance is to us anymore.” 

Maevaris was sitting at the table, a neutral expression on her face while observing Felix entirely. She was Dorian’s friend, Felix’s friend, and didn’t want to see either if them get hurt by any of Aria’s backlash which is why she’s had a spy in the Levine household the entire time. If there was anything the Lucerni needed to know, then it could be thwarted if harmful. Like telling Aria that Elanda wasn’t going to be a human shield. It made the magister mad, but if anyone loved playing in a Tevene drama, it was Aria. 

“She had always wanted to go to Rivain…” Felix murmured, looking at the glass in front of him, the crystal clear water just not strong enough to kill the emotion he doesn’t want to feel, “But I do believe she can change.” 

It was almost an instant switch, and one Elanda found herself envious of. One can have a  _ goal  _ to change someone’s mind, or to change the mindset of a country, but to say someone can change on a whim was… Naive. Not to say that it was  _ impossible  _ for someone to change, but they had to be  _ willing _ to change. For  _ themselves.  _

Aria didn’t seem to be willing. 

Dorian looked like he shared similar thoughts and wasn’t afraid to say them, “I don’t think that’s as easy as you want it to be… I’m worried about what it could do to her now.” 

“If my  _ father _ can change, I believe Aria can too.” Felix was not backing down, and Dorian knew it- and admired him for it. 

Dorian’s mustache curled with his smile as a chuckle broke out from him, “Your boundless optimism will be a breath of fresh air… How I’ve missed you, Felix.” 

Felix only chuckled and took a healthy sip of the water, “I’ve missed being home.” 

“So Cousland,” The mustached Tevene looked at the Fereldan who had that look on her face, in her own world and listening to the people in it. It worried him, but her steel gaze snapped to him when her name was called and he felt comfortable to continue, “Why all of the drama keeping him hidden?” 

Elanda smirked, “A bit of indulgence and necessity.” She replied, “The Andrastian tradition of cremating the dead certainly makes it easy to fake your own death…” The Warden chuckled with a slight roll of her eyes, jokingly, before going back to the topic at hand, “I needed to see the drama with my own eyes. Think of it as a test. I wanted to see how  _ you  _ would react to gauge if we needed a distraction.” 

“For Minrathous.” Maevaris piped up with amusement, “Doing something dastardly, Cousland?” 

“If I’m going to break in to the biggest library in nearly  _ all of Thedas,  _ then yes. I need a distraction,  _ without _ me being in the center of it.” The warrior woman motions to Felix, “Bringing back a man known as dead? Would certainly do the trick in  _ my _ country.” The redhead grinned and finally foot one step closer to her goal, “I’m sure that’s bound to turn some heads  _ here  _ of all places.” 

“Orlais would have adored you.” Dorian chuckled quietly, only to raise an eyebrow at the smirk the Warden had. Not that she responded with any comment. 

_ “They did adore you.”  _ Leliana giggled. 

Elanda rolled her grey eyes, but the smirk never left. It gave Dorian another clue into the elusive Warden. He was keeping a short list of all the clues that he had gathered so far, and the Tevene Magister felt like he was beginning to know her on a deeper level. He already counted her as a friend and ally, but he didn’t really  _ know  _ her. 

She was still keeping everyone, including Zevran, at an arm’s length. People only did that when they had something to hide. 

But what  _ was  _ that? 

“Though before we stop at Minrathous, we do have a place to go.” The Warden announced, leaning on a chair while her hands were placed on the back of it, idly tapping the wood. 

They all looked at her with a raised eyebrow and waited for the Warden to answer. 

“To Felix’s home.” She answered after letting the silence drag on long enough to be dramatic, “If that’s where you worked on the cure with Felix’s father, then that’s where I have to go next. We should still have time to make it to Minrathous if we leave as soon as possible.” 

“Don’t waste any time, do you?” Dorian teased, to which the Fereldan’s smirk fell. 

“I think I’ve wasted enough time.” 


End file.
